


Ashen Demon, Golden Tactician

by Shiro_Kabocha



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Bath Houses, Canon-Typical Violence, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fantasy Creatures, Light Bondage, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poison, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_Kabocha/pseuds/Shiro_Kabocha
Summary: In the country of Almyra, the successor to the throne is determined by a tournament among the king's heirs--a tournament that Claude had no hope of winning.  But strength is not the only means by which the throne can be seized.  Disgraced after losing the tournament, Claude seeks to make a deal with a shadowy mercenary known as the Ashen Demon to help secure his future as the King of Almyra.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 52
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-alternate universe in which Claude never attends the officer's academy and instead stays in Almyra to win the throne and enlists Byleth's help as a powerful, renowned mercenary. Some original characters and world-building of Almyra. No idea how long this story might end up being, but so far I'm having a lot of fun writing it!

Claude set his back against a wide tree, crouching down low and checking his line of sight. The full moon was both friend and foe, illuminating the pale packed dirt of the path through the trees while at the same time threatening to expose him if he so much as breathed wrong. When nothing larger than a leaf stirred in the still night air, Claude rubbed his hands in the earthy bracken at his feet and patted his face with the residue, not so much to hide from the light as to hide his intentions. Once finished he fell perfectly still, alert for the slightest sound, the smallest movement. It wouldn't do to lose focus out here. There were bandits on this road, after all.

Claude chuckled silently at his own joke.

He checked the draw on his bow, then hunkered down to wait, just one more predator hiding in the still of the night.

It was hours later when the traveler finally came into view. At least, Claude assumed it had to be the right traveler. He looked nothing like the stories said he would, but who else would be walking a known bandit-path in the middle of the night? From the distance and the darkness, Claude couldn't discern much more than the traveler's build and the sheathed sword on his hip. He looked slighter than expected, narrow through the waist and about average at the shoulders. If he was taller than Claude, it was by a hair. The stories called him a giant of a man, an artist with a sword, a demon on the battlefield with eyes of ice.

Claude couldn't make out the mercenary's eyes, but even he felt the oppressive aura of blood and violence radiating outward from the figure following the path. He repressed a shudder, keeping perfectly still. It wouldn't do to give himself away. Not just yet. When meeting with a famed killer, one had to wait for the most opportune moment.

The stranger was still a good distance away when the attack hit. The forest on both sides of the path exploded with motion, bushes rustling, branches waving, steel flourishing. Black-clad bandits surrounded the traveler in an instant, demanding his belongings or his death. The traveler stood still as a corpse, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

And then Claude lost all sight of him.

The man called the Ashen Demon moved too quickly for the eye to follow, but the smear of silver his sword left in the night trailed blood in a gruesome arc behind it, painting the night sky a desperate crimson color. Screams were the only sounds that echoed back through the forest, testing Claude's resolve to remain still. As the bandits fell one after another, limbs separated from bodies, his instincts urged him to run, to flee, like a lone deer watching a wolf pack descend on its herd. He swallowed once, hard, and remained where he was, frozen in place, poised to leap at the moment of opportunity.

There! One bandit had stayed behind his fellows and as the mercenary ran a cloth along his blade to clean the blood from it, the bandit swung a weighted cudgel at the back of his head.

Claude moved seamlessly, rising to a firing stance without thought, sighting as he lifted his bow, drawing back the string in a perfect, poetic motion.

The mercenary was still faster. In a moment where time seemed to hold perfectly still, he whipped the blade back over his shoulder, neatly slicing off the top of the bandits skull like a cap. Before Claude could even register the motion, the mercenary cast his golden blade forward like a fishing line, the segments of the blade coming apart and stretching, like a whip or a chain. He couldn't move as the sharp-edged golden fragments streaked towards him, couldn't even blink as the metal screamed past his ear, nor flinch at the hard, solid _thunk_ as the tip of the sword struck the tree behind him. When time began to move again, all Claude was conscious of was the Ashen Demon taking a single step towards him and the deadly, golden, fragmented blade shivering beside him.

Claude let his arrow fall as he raised his hands, an automatic grin of appeasement coming to his face. He tried to keep the tremble out of his voice when he spoke: "I wasn't going to attack you, my friend, honest! I was camping just off the road here and I heard the commotion. Thought you might like a hand."

The mercenary said nothing, only stalked closer, every movement smooth, slow and calculating. Now that he could see him properly, Claude noted that his hair was the color of midnight during a storm and his eyes were the pitiless color of deep winter ice. He'd just killed a handful of men, yet there was not a speck of blood on him, save for his blade. The blade that was still planted in the tree behind Claude, shivering slightly with each slow step the demon took.

Claude gulped and backed up a step, dropping his bow to show he was harmless. His hands shook but his voice remained steady, his fool's smile plastered in place. "I was only trying to help, stranger, I swear to it."

The mercenary stepped right up to Claude, blue eyes holding him captive as surely as any manacle. With a twist of his wrist, the mercenary freed his sword from the tree, snapping it into one solid blade once more. Another step and a practiced sweep of his sword brought the point of the blade up just beneath Claude's chin. There wasn't an arrow's width of space between them and with the tree pressed against Claude's back, there was no room for escape.

Not that escape had been the plan, but it was pretty fair to say that the plan hadn't quite worked out the way Claude had hoped it would.

"You swear to it," the mercenary said in a slow, thoughtful tone. His control was perfect: the blade didn't shiver, didn't waver, even as he spoke. "Would you also swear to it that it wasn't your gold that lined the pockets of those bandits who attacked me?"

Claude forced a laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about, friend! I was on my way to the town at the end of this road, but when it got dark I set up camp just off the road here and--"

Claude stopped as the tip of the sword scratched the underside of his jaw. If he weren't so terrified, he would have marveled at how the mercenary barely even moved.

The Ashen Demon was the real deal, it seemed.

"One more lie and I leave you bleeding out with these bandits," he said softly. "Because unless I miss my guess, you're the contractor I'm supposed to meet with in town tomorrow."

"Ha!" Claude felt icy sweat dripping down his back. He had to lift his chin to speak without cutting himself on the golden sword. "You caught me out! Sorry about that, my friend. You're not all that well-known here in Almyra; I had to see if the stories were true before I hired you."

The icy eyes glittered like orbs of cut crystal. "And are they?"

"I would say so," Claude said agreeably. "I was keeping watch on you just in case. I assure you, your life was never in any danger."

"No. It wasn't." Somehow in the non-space between them, the mercenary twirled his sword with a flourish and sheathed it at his hip. "I'll add the price of your little test onto my bounty. I hope you don't expect that I'll come as cheaply as those bandits did. Your request was not very forthcoming: what need do you have for my services?"

"Ah, well, that's...complicated," Claude said, sidestepping the question just as he sidestepped the mercenary, putting a little breathing room between the two of them. "And this is hardly the best time or place to negotiate a contract. What say we continue on down the road to the town and discuss this over breakfast?" He flashed a cheeky grin. "My treat. As an apology."

"We'll talk here," the mercenary said in a flat tone that brooked no argument. "If you had another test or trap prepared for me, I suggest you call it off. If you are wasting my time, you'll pay with a finger from your favorite hand."

Claude's hands snapped into fists at his sides, protecting his fingers before he could quell the reflex. He laughed uneasily. "What makes you think I'm wasting your time? I do have a job for you, you know. A challenge, in fact, I'm sure."

"Few jobs are challenges for me," he replied in that deadpan voice. "And the fact that you keep looking at the bandits, as if hoping to recover your coin, doesn't instill me with the hope that you can afford to pay me."

Shit, Claude thought, resisting the urge to wipe the fear-sweat off his forehead. Guess I'm down to my last resort: Honesty.

"Okay, so I'm a little cash-poor right now," Claude confirmed, speaking quickly and congenially. "But that's not going to be a problem once you finish the job for me. You see, I'm--"

"Not interested." The mercenary turned smoothly on his heel stalking back towards the packed-earth path.

"No, wait!" Claude cursed under his breath, stopping briefly to scoop up his bow and his dropped arrow before trailing along behind the infamous killer for hire. "I'm actually the heir to the Almyran throne. If you help me, I can pay you twice your usual contract. Three times your usual contract! You can name your price, have anything you could want, I just--"

"Need me to kill a few of the other heirs to the Almyran throne?" the mercenary asked, not deigning to meet Claude's gaze as he stalked back the way he had come. "I haven't been in Almyra long, but I do know the sequence of succession has already been decided. And." A sideways flicker of those cold blue eyes. "I've heard that one of the heirs left the succession tournament in disgrace."

"Disgrace is such a harsh word," Claude replied flippantly. "And that whole tournament thing to decide the next heir is a little antiquated, isn't it? I mean, do good fighters always make good rulers? History would seem to indicate that they don't. I think it's time to shake up the monarchy here a little and _you_ can help me do that."

"No."

"Just no?" Claude stumbled over a severed arm lying on the road. He made a face as he looked around: they were stepping over the bodies of the dead bandits. "C'mon, if you've been in Almyra long enough to hear about the tournament, then you'll already have heard that the king has some pretty ferocious kids. Wouldn't you like to test your skills against the would-be kings and queens of our fine warrior-nation?"

"I don't need affirmation of my own abilities." The mercenary strode over the bodies in the road like someone who was used to walking over the dead. He kept walking even as Claude stooped to free a few purses from their belts. "Good luck to you, would-be king of Almyra."

"Hold up just a minute!" Claude grabbed one more purse, then trotted after the Ashen Demon. "There must be something you fight for other than money. Is it pride? Renown? To honor the gods of your land?"

"I fight for gold. That's all."

"I don't believe that for a second." Even though they were the same height and the mercenary didn't seem to be walking fast, Claude found himself trotting to keep up with the purposeful stride. "I've heard all the stories, not just the ones told in Almyra, but the ones told in Fodlan, too. You can devastate a battlefield, destroy entire battalions, even sink a naval fleet, but there's not one story--not a single one--of you ever actually spending any of the money you've earned as a mercenary. No castle in the mountains, no quiet little cottage on the beach, no family, no luxuries, nothing. You're looking for something, I'm sure of it. Help me secure my claim to the throne and I'll make sure you get what it is you're searching for. You have my word."

"Your word." The mercenary stopped short, making Claude stagger to a halt. Ice-cold eyes seemed to stare straight through Claude's soul. "And just how valuable is your word?" Before Claude could speak, the mercenary pointed back at the bodies in the road. "Did you give those men your word as well?"

Claude grimaced, caught out. "Yes, but I'm not lying to you. There's no advantage to it. Surely you can tell I'm no match for you."

"No. You're not." The Ashen Demon eyed him up and down. "But the kind of man who solicits a mercenary he knows he can't afford to pay, then sets a trap with the intent of putting me in your debt by saving my life at the last moment is often the kind of man who talks his way out of having to pay for services rendered once he has what he wants."

Claude placed a hand over his chest, feigning shock. "You think I would renege on a bargain made with a stranger in the middle of the woods in front of no witnesses at all? That is...well, that's totally fair, I suppose. Here, how about a down payment to start?" Claude tossed the bandits' purses into the air, juggling them lightly from hand to hand. "I can pay in installments once I'm back in favor with my father and that won't take too much effort on your part. What do you say? A little gamble could pay off with big rewards. What's a little risk to someone as skilled as you are?"

The mercenary looked entirely unmoved. Just as Claude was beginning to think he was well and truly up the creek without a paddle, the mercenary reached out and snatched one of the purses out of the air, weighing it in his palm. When that failed to satisfy, he eyed Claude up and down. "You lost to your siblings in the match to decide the next heir to the kingdom. You know you're no match for me."

Claude laughed nervously. "Of course not! Why would I hire someone weaker than I am? What purpose would that serve?"

The mercenary held his silence for another beat, as if weighing an invisible scale. "Your plan was clever. You knew you couldn't afford my price, so you set an elaborate trap. Almost anyone other than myself would have fallen for it."

Claude smiled to mask his unease. "You'll have to forgive me: there aren't many stories that credit your intellect. Most only mention your strength."

The mercenary nodded slowly. "I have heard tell of a prince who wins his battles with tactical superiority, leaving few victims and taking fewer casualties. He isn't well spoken of here, this prince, yet in a less bloodthirsty land, such a tactician would be worthy of honor."

"Alas, this is not that land," Claude said with a theatrical sigh. "But I think if the right ruler were to take over the throne one day, perhaps it could be."

For long, breathless moments, the mercenary known as the Ashen Demon held perfectly still. Claude, for once, held his tongue. There were few people he couldn't manipulate with a clever word and a confident smile, but he sensed that this was one of them. Whatever happened next was on the demon, not on Claude.

"I'll hear you out," the mercenary said finally, tossing the coin purse back to Claude before changing directions on the dirt path once more.

"Really?" Claude couldn't help the little burst of relief and surprise as he caught the purse, then trotted to keep up. "You'll help me win the throne from--"

"I'm not agreeing to help," the mercenary said, voice hard. "I'm agreeing to listen. If I don't like what I hear, once dawn breaks, I'll take my leave and you'll never see me again."

"Great! I mean, thanks." Claude fumbled the purses as he struggled to tie them onto his belt. "So, what do I call you?"

The mercenary gave him a hard stare.

Claude shrugged. "What? I can't just keep calling you Ashen Demon all the time. It's a bit of a mouthful. And it gives the whole plot away way too early on."

The demon nearly smiled. "Call me Byleth."

Byleth, as it turned out, was not one for small talk, which made the journey back to the inn awkwardly long. Claude kept up a cheery chatter, asking Byleth how long he'd been in Almyra (just under a month), what he thought of the country so far (no opinion), and if all the stories were true--to which Byleth asked which stories Claude had heard, which gave Claude free license to story-tell all the way back to the inn. By the time they got there, Claude's throat was sore from talking and Byleth had neither confirmed nor denied any of the tales, no matter how Claude embellished them. Surely no one had ever leapt off a charging horse, slain an entire battalion, then caught the same horse as it looped back around to ride back to the other side. Right? But Byleth's face betrayed nothing: no amusement, no confusion, no remorse. All in all, Claude was feeling a little relieved when they approached the inn he'd been staying at the past few days.

That is, until he realized that once they were inside, he would have to convince Byleth to fight by his side for the future promise of payment.

Maybe I'll steal a bottle of wine from the kitchen, Claude thought, crouching in front of the inn's door to pick the lock. It was nearly dawn and the inn had locked its doors at midnight, a fact Claude had understood when he'd stepped out after dinner. He had a private room, of course, but the innkeeper didn't just give out keys to his front door to travelers.

A bottle of wine helps ease any conversation, Claude thought as he worked. And food, too, everyone feels better once they’ve eaten.

"Is it normal for a prince to learn lock-picking?" Byleth asked. Claude nearly startled: it was the first conversation Byleth had voluntarily initiated.

"I like to accumulate new skills," Claude said evasively. "You never know when something might come in handy. I consider a day wasted if I don't learn at least one new thing."

Byleth was silent for a moment, then asked: "What new thing did you learn today?"

Claude grinned as he pushed the door open. "Nothing yet. Day hasn't started yet, has it?"

Byleth returned nothing, but stepped past Claude into the dark of the empty common room. Claude closed the door silently behind him, setting the lock once more.

"Did you need a bite to eat?" Claude whispered, nodding his head towards the kitchen. "It's early for breakfast, but after such a long night, I'm a bit peckish."

"Isn't that stealing?" Byleth asked, face unreadable in the shadows.

"Ah, well, you know." Claude held his hands up like weighing scales. "It'd be rude to wake anyone up at this hour and since I might sleep through breakfast, it's really only fair that I grab something now. If you don't want anything, though, I'll just grab something that won't be missed, like a piece of fruit. You sure you don't want anything?"

Byleth said nothing, but crossed his arms over his chest, displaying his disapproval.

He’ll feel differently when he sees me eating, Claude decided, nipping into the inn's kitchen to grab a few things. He couldn't get into the icebox without causing a ruckus, so he settled for pocketing an apple, two pears, a handful of dates and a stale loaf of bread obviously left over from the night before. Unfortunately, all the bottles of wine seemed to be locked up in the pantry and with Byleth waiting on him, Claude didn't want to take the time to pick the lock and steal one. His pockets laden with stolen food, Claude circled back to the common room, where Byleth waited at the base of the stairs.

"Did you actually pay for a room here, or are you breaking into an empty one and hoping the innkeeper doesn't notice?" Byleth asked, voice dry.

Claude smirked and held up an iron key. "My room is paid for. At least through tonight. Besides, you kill people for money; why object to a little light thievery?"

Byleth's silence held a shrug. "I'm beginning to doubt you are who you say you are."

"Ah, because a prince should have a higher moral code than lock picking and stealing?" Claude led the way upstairs to his private room on the third floor of the inn; the lower floors were all community rooms. "As it turns out, I don't enjoy sleeping out in the elements, or starving. And when you leave the palace in disgrace, you aren't given very many other options." Claude tossed a grin over his shoulder. "And I always play to win."

"Is that why you lost the tournament to decide the heir to the throne?" Byleth asked.

Claude hid a grimace as he unlocked the door to the room, holding it open and allowing Byleth to pass before locking it up again. "Of course. Losing was part of my strategy to begin with."

Byleth turned, catching Claude with those cold eyes. "Losing is a strategy?"

"It is when you can't possibly win." The inn's room was tiny, barely enough space for a narrow bed, a trunk, and a desk. Claude lit a single candle from a flint striker, then kicked the chair away from the desk, stepping on the seat to perch on the desk. "You know, I'm curious. What are the rumors saying about the heir tournament?"

Byleth took in the room, then took the only other seat available: the edge of the bed. He kept his left hand hooked over the pommel of his sword even as he sat. "Most people seem to think the correct heir won: the warrior-prince who leads men into glorious battle against Fodlan's throat."

"Glorious battle." Claude rolled his eyes as he bit into a pear. He gestured with it as he spoke. "I've earned more battlefield successes than my brother Tahj ever has. But because I actually utilize strategy and tactics, I lose fewer warriors and take more prisoners than I leave orphans and widows. According to my people, that isn't 'glorious' enough. But what do I know?" He took a second bite of his pear. "What else are they saying?"

"That the twins fought well. Even though all agree that the warrior-prince deserved to win, the battle between the twins was more spectacular." Byleth tilted his head very slightly. "I've been wondering: why does no one call them by their names? No one can even tell me which of them won their match."

"That's because no one can tell them apart," Claude said with a dismissive wave of his pear. "It never mattered who won between them, they're practically the same person in two bodies. They choreographed their fight ahead of time in order to make it more exciting. I think it was Torinne who actually fought Tahj in the end, but no matter which twin won, they'd both rule as king."

"So they're both men, then?" Byleth asked. "I couldn't get a straight answer on that point either."

Claude chuckled. "That's not surprising: aside from using it as a disguise, the twins don't ascribe to any gender. Although, having bathed with them when we were all children, I am one of the few people who can confirm that one of them was born female and the other was born male. Which is which doesn't really make any difference at all."

"I thought gender played a significant role here in Almyra," Byleth commented lightly. "Isn't that why your sister bowed out of the match entirely?"

"No." Claude snorted. "Well, yeah, you could say that. Bowing out of the tournament was actually a power move for Azida; women aren't valued for their strength or power here, but their perceived womanly charms." Claude rolled his eyes. "By maintaining the image that she's this paragon of virtue and kindness, she was named second in line after Tahj without even lifting a finger. It's genius, really, though I hate to admit it."

"Why doesn't this strategy work for the twin sister, then?" Byleth pressed.

Claude shrugged. "Because no one can tell the twins apart. They don't fit traditional gender roles. As long as the one who sits on the throne looks like a king, no one will say anything against them. But for a woman to sit the throne--and actually hold it--she's gotta fit the Almyran ideals of what a queen should be. Azida's been grooming her queenly image since she could walk. If she manages to take Tahj out of the picture, there's no one between her and the throne."

"And where do you fit into all of this?" Byleth asked, pushing off the bed. He moved like a shadow, gliding across the floor to stand just before Claude's perch on the desk. "You placed last in the tournament and you were cast out in disgrace. Do you even have a claim on the throne anymore?"

Claude smirked, refusing to back away even as Byleth loomed directly before him. "Of course I have a claim. Almyran history is littered with examples of underdogs rising to take their due. If they're clever. If they're strong."

"If they were clever and strong, why were they underdogs to begin with?" Byleth asked.

Claude waved a hand dismissively. "My strengths don't lend well to one-on-one combat. I was never going to defeat even one of my siblings using a bow. The tournament favors strength of arms or magic, and I never took well to either of those. I happen to see better from a distance." He grinned. "Mine was always going to be a longer game."

"Hm." Byleth stared a moment longer, then plucked the apple from Claude's hand. He returned to the bed, holding the apple up as if considering it. "So now we come to the part where I ask you once again: What need do you have of my services? If I duel and defeat your siblings for you, it doesn't exactly prove you to be stronger or cleverer than any of them."

"No, of course not." Claude grinned. "What I have in mind is nowhere near as straightforward as a duel."

Byleth arched a brow, peering over the apple in his hand. "I thought Almyrans frowned upon assassination."

"It depends on how the assassination is carried out, really." Claude shrugged. A sniper's arrow from a distant tower? Bad. An undetectable poison slipped into a drink in the midst of a gala? Totally acceptable. "But no, that's not what I have planned. If I took the throne through bloody means, it would undermine what I mean to do with my rule afterwards. So we're going to have to be more tactful than that."

Byleth cut a slice off the apple with a belt knife, juice bleeding down the edge of the blade. "I suppose you want me to ask what you mean to do after you take the throne."

Claude shrugged. "It won't matter to you. Once I ascend the throne, I'll pay you your due and you can take your leave. No fuss, no muss."

"I'm still waiting to learn my role in all of this." Byleth locked eyes with Claude as he placed the apple slice in his mouth and chewed.

"That's the thing." Claude pushed away from the desk, nervous energy driving him to move. "My physical prowess isn't enough to challenge any of my siblings on my own and having someone fight on my behalf doesn't win me any points. My only option is to outmaneuver them, which, thanks to my tactical brilliance, is more than enough to suffice. Except my reputation precedes me, so if my siblings even get a hint of what I'm doing, they could issue a public challenge, which, as the tournament proved, I can't hope to win. I need a game-piece I can move at will, strong enough to keep them from acting either publicly or privately against me while I set the board for a win. If all goes according to plan, I won't actually need you for very much and you'll get paid for standing around and looking intimidating. If things go sideways, I'll need you to step in and clear the board for me. Got it?"

Byleth held a long silence, scarcely moving except for his eyes, which followed Claude's frenetic pacing around the room. "Essentially, you need a bodyguard."

Claude shrugged. "In essence. Yes."

Another long, tense silence. "You must have had any number of people you could have hired on as a simple bodyguard."

Claude hesitated, weighing how truthful he wanted to be. The ice-cold eyes decided him: if this man ever caught him in a lie, he might begin collecting body parts. "I can't trust anyone from Almyra, not wholly. Tahj won the tournament, fair and square, and any move against him could be seen as treason. An Almyran would consider that his greater duty than loyalty to me. And also, I need you for your reputation. You're a legend, a hero of mythic proportions. My siblings won't know how to approach you and that's exactly what I need: to keep them off balance while I stage my coup."

"You want to use me as a distraction," Byleth confirmed. "And as a game-piece."

"And maybe a few other random assignments here or there," Claude said, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as he turned and paced back towards the desk. "I don't want to kill my siblings, but that doesn't mean it'll be an entirely bloodless coup: I may need a few of their guards or loyalists to die."

"What about your father?" Byleth asked, cutting another slice off his apple. "Do you need him to die in order to take the throne?"

"No," Claude chuckled. "If dear old dad dies before appointing me his heir officially, the others would be justified in coming after me with armies or assassins. And dad's old, anyway. He just wants to retire with his wives, maybe lead a few reckless charges against Fodlan, get fat on rich food and wine. He's already halfway there now, with Tahj and Azida handling most of the work while he supervises. Once he's sure the kingdom is in good hands, he'll step down."

"I see." Byleth chewed his apple slice slowly, as if concentrating on the taste, or the crunch. "How long do you expect this little coup of yours to take?"

"Hard to say," Claude admitted, still pacing. "If it was just Tahj ahead of me, I could probably wrap this up in a little over a week. But the twins won't be easy to separate and Azida is nearly as clever as I am and don't get me started on Tahj's mother." Claude shook his head. "I have to earn my position as the heir before my dad retires. That's the only hard deadline. Once he steps down officially, then Tahj and his heirs are the rightful rulers and the only way I can protest is through civil war. And I'd really prefer to avoid the option that harms so many of my people and so much of my realm."

Byleth nodded slowly. He turned the apple in his hand, the core sharp-edged from clean knife cuts, the glistening flesh catching the light of the single candle. Byleth tossed the core lightly into the air, as if preparing to juggle, then suddenly--in a motion too quick for the eye--he whipped out his belt knife and threw it, spearing the apple out of the air and pinning it to the far wall. Claude stumbled in his pacing, staring openly at the still-vibrating knife that had just flown past his head.

"As I said before," Byleth said, calmly, quietly, controlled, as he cleaned his fingers with a cloth. "I don't work for free." He rose from the bed, draped in shadows and malice. "And I don't work for promises."

Claude had to fight off the instinct to retreat, holding his ground as Byleth closed the distance between them. He smelled apple juice and cold steel as Byleth cupped his chin, fingers slightly tacky against the scruff of his jaw.

"So what else do you have to offer me, prince?"

Claude spread his hands out from his sides, grinning cheekily. "I don't suppose I can interest you in my idealized notions that I can change the kingdom for the better, can I?"

Byleth lifted a single shoulder in a shrug as he held Claude's eyes captive, only inches separating the two of them. "Every tyrant who ever sat a throne thought they were doing what was right for their people. You might make things better, but you might also make things worse. Either way, I don't fight for ideals. And as I have no interest in remaining in Almyra, I have no vested interest in the promised outcome."

"Then what do you have an interest in?" Claude asked lightly. "There must be something, or else you wouldn't have come all this way to hear my offer."

"I suppose I could be convinced to allow you to work off what I feel is owed," Byleth said, turning Claude's chin left, then right, as if examining him closely. "If you were amenable, I think we could come to an...alternative arrangement."

Claude swallowed hard as he caught the mercenary's meaning. He was no shrinking virgin, not by a long shot. But his prior dalliances had always been cheerfully lighthearted and short lived. As intensely as Byleth was studying at him, he doubted this would be either. Yet, if that was going to secure him the outcome he needed to usurp his siblings and take the throne...

In the space of a single held breath, Claude peered past the veil of steel and violence to really look at Byleth. His eyes were cold, but they were also beautiful, almost luminous in his pale face. His hair looked feather soft, his cheekbones high and sharp. They were of a height with each other, which helped set Claude a little more at ease, though Byleth was clearly the stronger, as evidenced by the simple, firm touch on Claude's jaw. If Claude had ever bedded anyone prettier than the mercenary before him, he couldn't recall them just then. And if he was honest, he'd always had an attraction to strength and power.

And I always said I would sell my soul in order to gain the throne, Claude thought to himself. When it comes right down to it, my body is a much cheaper trade.

"I could be...amenable," Claude said, smirking. "It works out to my advantage anyway, seeing as how a bodyguard should be kept close at all times."

He gasped as fingers dug into the sides of his jaw with bruising force, tipping his chin up. "Careful, young prince. You don't really know what you're agreeing to just yet."

Claude braced himself against the pain, straining to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Neither do you, when you come right down to it. I'll make a down payment right here and now if you agree to take my contract."

Byleth held perfectly still, considering the offer. Claude wasn't even certain the mercenary was breathing by how still he stood. Finally: "A single payment buys only a single service. If I take your offer now, I am not agreeing to the entirety of your plan, merely the next step of it."

"Then I guess I'll have to make a few payments then, right?" Claude fixed his smirk in place. "Store a little credit away for a rainy day?"

Byleth's eyes glittered coldly as he ran his thumb over Claude's lower lip. "You may not enjoy this in the way that you think. My tastes tend to be a little...rough."

"You afraid I might break?" Claude taunted. His common sense was sending up flares, warning him to get out while he still could. But his daredevil nature ignored the warnings. "Why don't you try me? You never know: I might like it."

"Heh." An almost laugh. A brief, cruel smile. "I think I will take you up on that offer. But if you stop me partway, we have no accord and I owe you nothing. After this, if you decide the price is too steep, I'll depart after I deem I've repaid you."

"Fine by me." Claude snapped his chin out of Byleth's hand as he unclasped the cloak from his shoulders. "Shall we get to it? Or do you need a little time to warm up?"

Something flickered behind Byleth's eyes, and though his mouth remained a thin line, it almost appeared as if he were smiling. "Just a taste tonight, young prince. I don't want to scare you off just yet. You can keep your clothes on for this."

"For wha--Oh." Claude understood as Byleth caught the front of his shirt and dragged him forward, towing him towards the bed. Byleth sat down on the edge but not before giving his lips a suggestive lick. Claude took a moment to loosen his collar: for some reason his throat suddenly felt unaccountably tight. How did such a simple thing have him so nervous? He'd done this before. How rough could giving head actually be?

"Bet you've never had a prince get down on his knees for you before," Claude said, fixing a smirk on his face as he lowered himself to the floor.

Byleth's smile was a calculated degree of cruelty. "You'd be surprised."

Claude chuckled softly as he adjusted his weight over his knees. "Guess I'll have to check my ego, then."

"People with power need my services more than people without," Byleth said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't mind checking your ego for you."

Byleth ran a hand back through Claude's hair, a light pressure tilting his chin up as his hands worked. Claude kept his eyes locked on Byleth's even as he laid aside Byleth's belt and worked the laces of his pants. The dastard's breath didn’t even catch as Claude carefully withdrew the heated length, giving it a few solid strokes before finally lowering his gaze to it.

Not the biggest I've seen, Claude thought to himself, though he'd lie about it if Byleth needed that kind of reassurance. It gave more to length than girth, the opposite of the average in Claude's experience so far, but even considering that, it would still be one of the largest he'd ever taken himself. It was a bit of a relief to become accustomed to it first before allowing Byleth free reign. Tomorrow, he'd have to pick up oil. Oil, and, perhaps, as much wine as his limited coin would allow.

It seemed Claude had stalled long enough, because the pressure in his hair steadily increased until he was being pulled down. Claude glanced up one last time, tongued the corner of his mouth, then let himself be pulled down into Byleth's lap. He let his breath fall over the rising purple crown, then tipped his head to the side, avoiding the length except to tease with the tip of his tongue. The already firm muscles in Byleth's thighs tensed a little more, but that was the only indication that Byleth felt anything at all.

So you're the stoic type, huh? Claude thought, tracing his tongue down the length of Byleth's cock. Bet you think a prince is too privileged for something like this. Just you wait, Ashen Demon. I can make you beg for it.

He blew a cool stream of air over the saliva-slick trail he'd left, making the appendage twitch. The hand in Claude's hair was heavy, but not insistent, as if remaining only to ensure that Claude didn't try to stop too soon. Claude smirked internally as he leaned in, mouthing the base of Byleth's cock. He'd come too far to try and back out now; all that was left was victory or death.

He ran his lips up the length, applying light suction until he came to the cleft in the crown. He leaned in, tonguing the spot vigorously while sucking at the surrounding flesh. He bobbed his head rhythmically, stroking that sensitive spot with his tongue to the beat set by his own pulse. The hand in his hair traveled down to the back of his neck, fingers digging deliciously into the hard muscles there before trailing back up to weave through his hair. Claude leaned into the touch briefly before swiping his tongue all the way around the head and drawing it into his mouth.

This isn't bad at all, Claude thought to himself, teasing and sucking in turns. Maybe he just wanted to see if I'd do it; maybe he was trying to scare me. I don't mind if he treats me like a pet in the bedroom so long as he's my demon in public. And I can use this, besides. I won't have to sleep with one eye open if he's sleeping next to me. My siblings will keep their eyes on him, allowing me to move more freely.

Actually, this is going to work perfectly for dividing the twins, Claude realized. They can't resist a challenge and the Ashen Demon should be more than their match. This is going to be even easier than I planned. First, we'll head to my mother's estate in the capital, then stage a public duel and--

Claude choked and coughed as the hand in his hair twisted and pulled, yanking his head back and arching his neck and spine painfully. Critical icy eyes glared down into his.

"Where are you right now?" Byleth asked, coldly curious. "You're not here, are you?"

Claude tried to turn his head and wipe the saliva around his mouth on his shoulder, but Byleth held him firm. Any move to free himself would either hurt or cause him to lose his balance and fall, and the last thing he wanted was to be even more vulnerable. "It's nothing," Clause assured him, voice strained from the tension on his neck. "I was just thinking--"

"Thinking? Or scheming?" Byleth leaned down, his hand tugging harder in Claude's hair. Claude couldn't hold back a grimace, couldn't keep from grabbing at Byleth's clothing to remain upright. "Either way, that's not what you should be doing right now. You need to focus on the task at hand."

"R-right." His thigh and stomach muscles were beginning to burn with the effort of holding himself up against the pressure pulling him backwards. His neck felt naked and exposed, stretched long in Byleth's grip. "I will, just let me--"

"Let you?" Byleth sounded amused. "You don't make the demands here, little prince. I do."

Claude yelped at the pain tearing at the back of his head, then lost his breath as he finally lost the fight to stay upright, his back colliding hard with the floor. He barely had time to suck in a gasping breath before Byleth was straddling his chest, hands pinning Claude's wrists above his head, that grim, icy visage staring down at him.

"Something else on your mind now, my prince?"

"No!" Claude struggled not to struggle. If he fought, this would only get worse, he was sure of it.

Byleth eyed him critically. "Is this as far as you want to go? We can stop here with nothing owed on either side."

Claude shook his head, still reeling from losing his breath and his balance. "No, it's fine. I'll stay focused this time, I--"

"Don't worry." The candlelight reflected in Byleth's eyes, making them gleam like a true demon's. "You won't have to. Not this time."

Claude felt one wrist painfully pinned atop the other as Byleth held him one-handed, the other hand moving down between them, grasping his length and stroking it once, Byleth's eyes staring hungrily at Claude's mouth. Claude panicked for an instant, throwing his weight against the arm that held him pinned before going still.

"Wait!"

"Last chance to say stop, prince."

Claude gritted his teeth. Swallowed. Then forcibly relaxed. He released a shaky breath, ignoring the rapid pounding of his heart. "No. Go ahead. I won't break."

Byleth's hips surged forward as his hand guided his length into Claude's mouth. The angle was like nothing Claude had ever experienced and before he had time to consider it, Byleth was fully and thoroughly fucking his face. He kept one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, while the other held Claude's hands captive above him, the bones of his wrists grinding against each other beneath the mercenary's considerable strength. He wasn't used to being so completely out of control, but although it was awkward, it wasn't actually all that painful. Claude tried to relax his mouth and throat as much as possible, getting used to the rhythm enough to press his tongue along the underside of Byleth's cock, lewd sounds echoing around the rented room.

Claude was just growing accustomed to the repetitive motion, thinking that at least this way it wouldn't take so long, when Byleth surged forward on his knees, thrusting his cock in deeper, down Claude's throat and obstructing his airway. Claude gagged, his eyes watering, his lungs panicking as he drummed his heels into the floor, arching his back in an attempt to buck Byleth off of him.

"Breathe through your nose, prince," Byleth advised, his own breathing barely changed even as he continued thrusting into Claude's mouth. "Relax. Just breathe."

It wasn't easy to follow the advice, especially as Byleth never stopped moving, never gave Claude a moment to adjust. But his oxygen-starved lungs found just enough air to quell his panic. When he stopped trying to pull free of Byleth's grip, he found he could--in between thrusts--suck in just enough air through his nose. He couldn't help but swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth, the muscles of his throat contracting around Byleth's cock. That involuntary reaction finally earned a hint of a reaction from Byleth.

"Mmm." Byleth's eyes looked black in the darkness, yawning pits void of pity and mercy, housing only hunger. "You are clever, aren't you? Learning so fast."

The thrusts only got harder after that, Byleth's breaths mingling with the sloppy, wet sounds suffusing the room. Claude's air got thinner, his throat pained as he swallowed continually, mostly to suppress his gag reflex, but also because it seemed to give Byleth at least a small amount of pleasure. Anything to end this quicker. He still couldn't regret his decision, though. Even if it only got worse from here, the results would still be worth it.

If he lived to see the results. Byleth had to be getting close now because as his thrusts became quicker, sharper, deeper, Claude was getting less air. The edges of his vision were beginning to fill in red and any minute now he'd lose the fight against struggling uselessly.

Byleth grunted above him, eyes blinking as if to focus. "How should I do it? I want to cum down your throat, but you're new to this and you've been so good. Maybe I should reward you just a little?"

The reward would be in ending it and soon, but Claude couldn't exactly put that into words. Couldn't even really send a signal at all, not with his hands pinned and his vision going dark. Byleth withdrew suddenly, air filling Claude's lungs so quickly he became dizzy, his vision tunneling out so rapidly he feared he might faint. The hand pinning him to the floor released him and Claude pushed himself up to an elbow, coughing--but not before catching something wet and hot streaking across his face. He kept himself from flinching, but just barely, holding still until the barrage ended. Actually, he felt grateful for the break as it allowed him to catch his breath. Cum dripped off his chin as he panted and swallowed, his throat tight, his jaw sore. After long moments, the weight over his chest lifted.

Floorboards creaked and shadows shifted as Byleth stood. Claude groped for a handkerchief in his pocket as Byleth's shadow fell over him. He glanced up, unconsciously licking at the corner of his mouth. Byleth was lacing up his pants as he stared down impassively. Claude's throat was one solid ache, his eyes burned and his breath fought his control. He took his time cleaning off his face, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths and willing his heart to slow. He hadn't ever been in any danger--not really. But that didn't mean it hadn't been quite an ordeal.

"Well, prince?" Byleth asked as Claude folded the soiled handkerchief. "Are you regretting our deal yet?"

Claude pushed himself up from the floor, one hand going to his throat, easing it against the pain. He swallowed once, twice, until he was sure he could speak without his voice cracking. He raised his eyes to Byleth's with purposeful intent, lifting the folded kerchief to dab a clean corner against his lips. When he lifted his chin, he had his usual smirk in place.

"Not even a little." His voice was hoarse, but there was no help for that. "You're in my debt now, Ashen Demon. Don't think you can slither out of it so easily. Let me know when you're up for round two, because this is going to take a while."

Byleth’s responding grin was the devil's own smile. "Good. I'm looking forward to working with you. Would-be king."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth arrive at the capital city of Almyra, but with Claude still in disgrace, he can’t return home just yet. It’s time to kick this scheme off! But where to start…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it’s just a little past the one year anniversary of Three Houses and I have been LOVING all the FE:3H art showing up on my time line. Let me know if you find any good mByleth/Claude art—it’s so hard to find for some reason!

"Ah, home sweet home," Claude declared, throwing an ornate door wide open, then coughing as he stepped into the dust cloud he'd stirred up. "Well, sort of, anyway."

"This is your mother's house in the city?" Byleth asked, following Claude inside. He seemed unaffected by the angrily swirling dust motes as he looked around at the plush but closed-up sitting room. "Not too shabby for a banished prince."

"Disgraced," Claude corrected him, eyes watering as he threw back the curtains over the windows. "And it's not the picnic it looks like. Do you see anything that looks like a household staff here?"

Byleth fixed him with a sardonic glare. "You poor thing."

"Wait til you’re hungry in the middle of the night or wish to have a warm bath," Claude admonished, going around the room to peel back the curtains. "Ma can't send me any funds or staff the house while I'm in disgrace, so it's not much more than a roof over our heads for the time being. And, as you'll recall, I am now completely broke after our merry little jaunt across the countryside."

Not that it had been merry at all; Claude was down to his last few pennies at the last inn they'd stayed at and had to steal the food they ate. Well, he stole his own food. Byleth seemed to have a few coins stashed away, but Claude refused to let him pay for anything for himself. The last thing Claude wanted was to be even more in Byleth's debt--he was still making payments on his contract with the demon mercenary.

Claude paused at the window he'd just opened, eyes caught by the view. The Almyran palace was a sprawling work of art built directly into the northern cliff face so it could look down upon the city beneath it. With no need for walls, stone towers pierced the sky, colorful banners whipped in winds that didn't reach the valley-city and above it all, wyverns soared, calling out to each other or to the humans below whom they recognized. Claude's heart ached for the friend he'd left behind when he went in search of assistance; he hoped to be welcome back in the palace soon, but barring that, he'd accept being allowed back into the wyvern eyries. He missed his friend, steed and stalwart battle companion.

He tensed at Byleth's hand descending on his shoulder from behind. Claude turned slightly to see Byleth looking up at the palace.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Byleth asked after a moment of heavy silence.

Claude laughed. "It isn't as if the place is full of fond memories for me or anything, but yeah, I guess you could say that. The palace is the seat of power, after all, and power is what I'm after."

Claude turned away from the window and looked around, satisfied to find the room was getting a decent amount of light and air circulation now that the windows were all open. He dropped onto a deep plush couch, sending up a puff of dust. He kicked his legs out on the seat, stretching so that he laid back against the low, cushioned arm of the couch. He smirked and licked his lips. "We've got a little time to kill if you're feeling it."

Byleth seemed to consider the offer deeply for a moment. He even crossed the room to stand at the side of the couch, one hand reaching down to toy with Claude's hair. Just as Claude thought he was about to make a mess in his mother's living room, Byleth rocked back a step. "You've already built up a good bit of credit. And I think I'd prefer a bath just now anyway."

"Ah." Claude wasn't sure if he was feeling disappointed or relieved. For all that Byleth did prefer it a little rough, Claude didn't object much to making his "payments." "Well, the only water you'll find here is in the well outside, and since that comes from a mountain stream aquifer, it's pretty damn cold. I suggest one of the bath houses in the city. They'll have warm water, scented soaps and even pretty girls and boys to help you get a little dirty before you get clean."

Byleth smirked. "Isn't that what I have you for?"

Claude laughed. "You know what? That does sound fun." Claude spun on the couch, setting his feet on the floor. "Why don't we both go--"

The front door crashed open loudly, making Claude jump and Byleth spin, his naked sword in hand. Claude grimaced at his bow, set down inside the doorway and fingered the knife on his belt as he eyed the intruder.

"Brother." A lithe figure wearing little more than a sheer wrap over the thinnest scraps of clothing and gladiator sandals glided into the room. "So good to see you've returned. We were worried about you, you know."

"Were you? Now that's a bit of a surprise." Claude stayed just behind Byleth's shoulder, but he grinned cheekily. "Good to see you, Tori."

"I'm Cori," Claude's sibling replied, tossing a thick, red braid over their shoulder.

"No, that's Cori." Claude jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the twin who had just darkened the window behind him. Byleth pivoted smoothly, putting his back against Claude's in order to face the newer threat. Claude almost laughed. The twins were more dangerous when they _didn't_ let you see them coming. "Did you two come by for a social visit? I'm sorry to say I don't have any fruit or wine to offer you right now."

"No, we're only in town to supervise the collection." Claude tensed as Tori laid a finger on his bow, rocking it back and forth in a toying motion. "We saw the curtains were open and figured you must be here."

"Who's your new bodyguard?" Cori asked from the window. They'd taken a seat on the sill, long legs crossed and chin cupped in a hand with scarlet-tipped fingernails. The twins were dressed identically, from their gold-tinged sandals up to the complex braid on the crown of their heads. The strip of clothing covering their chest looked remarkably flat, broad and masculine. It was only by long association that Claude was able to see through their facade. Glancing back, he saw Cori draw the tip of their pinky into their mouth, tongue teasing, wet and pink. "He's quite handsome."

"Just a foreign lover I picked up," Claude replied off-handedly. "It isn't as if I can fall any farther from grace, can I?"

Tori made an amused noise. They lounged against the door frame, one leg kicked over the other in feigned repose. "There's always further to fall."

"But there's always a way back up, isn't there?" Cori hopped off the windowsill, movements light, long and airy, trailed by the sheer garment that wrapped them from shoulder to ankle. They shot a wink at Byleth before circling around in front of Claude. "We thought you might be interested in a partnership of sorts."

"Of sorts," Claude echoed, his tone conveying mirth he didn't feel. Byleth shifted again, keeping his eyes on the twins. He still hadn't put his sword away, how adorable of him. The twins were here to negotiate, not fight, but Claude couldn't exactly tell him that just now. "Let me guess: you want a partnership that puts you both on the throne. And then I would get, what, exactly?"

"We would welcome you back as one of our honored generals, of course," Cori said, tumbling over backwards onto the couch that Claude had just recently vacated. They grinned up from the flat of their back.

"Or even make you one of the royal advisors," Tori offered, slinking into the room, eyes sweeping up Byleth, evaluating the sword carefully. They fingered the hilt of the scimitar at their waist, but made no move to draw. Claude guessed they were trying to gauge Byleth's skill as a swordsman. "You probably haven't heard the latest news yet, but Tahj has named Azida to his royal council."

"Was that his idea or his mother's, I wonder?" Claude mused, stroking the stubble on his chin. "And do they really think that's enough to buy off Azida?"

He left the implied "Do you really think that's enough to buy _me_ off?" unspoken.

"We just thought we'd extend the invitation," Cori said, stressing the word "invitation" and staring up deliberately at Byleth.

"Having you on our side evens the odds against Tahj and Azida," Tori explained, still slinking around the room, as if unable to hold still. "You should consider the offer. It's better than anything you'll get from either of them."

"I'll think about it," Claude said, though he let a little "I've already thought it over" tone slip into his voice. "Where can I find you two in the meantime? Are you staying at your mother's villa in the city?"

"When we don't have anywhere else to be," Cori purred, reaching out to brush Byleth's leg with their toes.

"We'll be at the night market tonight if you have an answer sooner," Tori added. "But we'll be going back to the palace in a few days, so you should come up with your answer sooner rather than later."

"You should come stay at our villa," Cori offered, arching their back off the couch, making slim, lithe muscles appear stark against supple skin. "We actually have a staff for food and baths and...comfort."

"Maybe we'll take you up on that," Claude said, ignoring the fact that Cori had made the invitation seemingly to Byleth alone. "Can't afford to turn down a free meal, after all."

Tori paused by the door, expression blank as they assessed Claude, Byleth, and the empty house around them. "We'll look for you at the night market tonight. We have to begin preparing."

"So dull," Cori groaned, drawing themself up from the couch. After a languid stretch, they placed their hands on Byleth's chest, leaning in close with a salacious smile. "I hope you'll come and make our night a little more...interesting."

"We'll see," Byleth replied, voice and face stony as he promised nothing. Cori sauntered to the door where their twin waited, a suggestive sway in their hips as they walked. The twins paused just inside the doorway, each looking back over a shoulder, perfectly identical in posture, expression and voice. Even their breathing was matched.

"We'll look forward to a positive answer, Claude."

"We'd hate to have to consider the idea that you're on Tahj's side."

"Because if you're not with us--"

"--You're against us."

Claude applauded. "Well done, guys, all that practicing has really paid off. Tori, you're brilliant as ever. Cori, I think you went just a tad too far on the seductive menace. Just pointers for next time."

"That's Cori."

"I'm Cori."

"Whatever." Claude shooed them both out the door, shutting and locking it tight behind them. As an added measure, he grabbed his bow and kept it close. Not that it would have been much help if the twins had attacked, but it still felt better to have a weapon better than his belt knife. He flopped down onto the couch, exhaling a breath in relief. "So those were the twins. Any questions?"

"They're dangerous," Byleth said, a tiny smile flickering over his features, as if welcoming the challenge. "It doesn't seem as if you are as adept at telling them apart as you believed."

"Don't let them lie to you," Claude said dismissively. "Anytime someone tries to name them, they just deny it and point at the other one. Besides, it doesn't really matter which is which: they're practically one person in two bodies."

"So then, what's the--" Byleth's eyes narrowed dangerously as Claude held a finger to his lips. Subtly, he motioned to the open window Cori had slithered in through. Just because the twins had left didn't mean they were gone.

"You wanted to go to a bath house, didn't you?" Claude asked, standing and stretching. "C'mon. Let me show you to a nice one."

Claude pushed himself up from the pillow-covered couch with no small amount of regret. He would have preferred to rest for at least a day before setting his machinations in motion, but the twins waited on no man. He led Byleth through a few curtained and dust-darkened sitting rooms before making his way into the cold, dark kitchen. Dust lay thick on the floor and on all the counters, pots, pans and knives, but just as Claude suspected, there was a small trail of footsteps left in the dust. He smiled as he followed them to a cupboard. After a brief search, he found a jar that jingled merrily when he lifted it. The cap had been sealed on by wax, but that was a small matter for Claude's belt knife.

"Guess Ma really does love me," Claude commented, spilling a small pile of coins onto a counter. "She'd get in trouble with Dad if she supported me publicly, but this little bit wouldn't bother him. Looks like I can cover both dinner and the bath house." He winked roguishly at Byleth. "Wanna get naked with me?"

Byleth gave him a considering look. "If you're up for it."

"Always," Claude said cheerfully, sweeping the coins off the counter and into a belt purse.

The city had changed in small ways since Claude's last visit, though he wondered if it was really so different or if he were only seeing it differently now that he was seeing it from a pauper's perspective instead of a prince's. His eyes automatically slid past the bright and boastful shop signs and only lingered briefly on the street-side carts that could be wheeled from location to location. The only merchants he could afford to buy from were the ones who set out their wares on rugs in the little alley space between buildings. He wanted to replace his travel-worn clothes, especially his boots, but there wasn't enough coin for that. After the bath house, he might be able to pick up some food and wine at the night market, but that would take all he had. Hopefully it wouldn't take long to put himself above the twins and erase his disgraced status, otherwise he'd have to find a way to beg, borrow or steal in order to keep from starving in the meantime.

The best bath house was still the best bath house, though, and easily found by its tiled mosaic entryway. The scantily clad washer girls and boys outside helped too, though Claude didn't notice Byleth pay any of them any mind. He stood by stoically while Claude requested a private bathing chamber for the two of them, as well as scented soaps, oils, towels and a bottle of chilled date wine. They were shown to a changing room, where they left their clothing with an attendant and wrapped themselves in thin robes. When their bath was ready, they were led down long, wood-paneled hallways to a single chamber with a door that locked from the inside.

Claude sighed happily when he stepped inside. Steam rose from the earthen-clay tub sunk into the center of the room, large enough for four men, but still intimate enough for two. Soaps and oils were laid out on a metal tray near the edge of the tub, towels were folded neatly near the door and the wine was in a bucket of ice, complete with two clay mugs. This was the princely life Claude hadn't appreciated when he'd had it. It wasn't the driving factor that made him wish to stake his claim on the throne, but it certainly was a nice benefit.

He tried not to tense when he felt Byleth's hand on his side, cool through the thin cloth of his robe. "Is this something you've done with lovers before?"

"On occasion," Claude replied, turning to meet Byleth's eyes. "I needed a place I could speak to you in private and you wanted to visit a bath house anyway. But I'm up for a little fun if you're up for it."

"I might be," Byleth said, his hand sliding beneath the opening of Claude's robe.

Claude let himself be undressed, even gave Byleth an encouraging smirk. This would be the first time they'd be fully nude together, despite their previous entanglements. When Byleth's eyes swept Claude's body in an appreciative way, Claude turned and sauntered away, sitting on the edge of the tub and dangling his legs into the steaming water. He hissed at the heat, taking his time to adjust. He heard Byleth's robe hit the floor a moment before the mercenary joined him at the tub.

"You're not really considering joining up with the twins, are you?" Byleth asked, voice low.

"Oh, business first then?" Claude asked, teasing. He eased into the water, finding a carved bench hidden in the murky depths. "No, of course I'm not considering toadying up to the twins. Even if I did help them wrest the throne away from Tahj and Azida, there's no guarantee they wouldn't knife me in the back afterwards. The only people Tori and Cori are loyal to are Tori and Cori."

"And you're certain you can tell which one is which?" Byleth asked, sinking into the water in one smooth motion. He settled across the tub from Claude, one arm hooked over the side. "Because whichever one was your sister didn't look as if she had much to hide."

"Don't let them fool you," Claude cautioned. He submerged his head in the mineral-rich water briefly before sitting up again. "They were both wearing masculine personas at the house. I'd bet anything that they'll switch it up for the performance tonight."

"Performance?" Byleth asked.

"Yeah, at the night market." Claude grabbed a soap off the tray and got down to business in scraping the road dirt off his body. "Tori said they were assigned to supervise the tax collection in the city, which, while an honorable position, I bet neither twin is super thrilled about. Not when they could have been king. It's not really their style to go door to door counting out alms or anything, so instead they'll have set up a collection station at the night market for the citizens to report to. They'll have scribes and guards on hand to make sure everyone pays up appropriately, but to draw people in, they'll use a bit of a spectacle." Claude used a tiny pick to get the dirt out from under his nails. "The twins are good at creating spectacles."

"I saw that," Byleth said, motioning for Claude to pass the tray of soap.

Claude chuckled as he slid the tray across the wet tile. "You haven't seen anything yet."

They fell quiet for long minutes, each scrubbing and soaking and enjoying the warmth. Claude couldn't help but look Byleth's way. They'd shared rooms along the way back to the capital city, but even so, he'd never seen Byleth stripped down before. At night, Byleth only ever removed his cloak and his boots, which meant his sword joined him in his bed. When they got to messing around, Byleth only unlaced his pants, nothing more. The body of the mercenary was a bit of a mystery until just now and Claude found himself looking for the scars of an inveterate warrior. He found a few, though not as many as he would have expected. And despite the cheese-curd color of the foreigner's skin, Byleth's body was pretty much perfect: well-muscled but still slim, tall but not too tall. He'd be prettier if he smiled more, but Claude guessed "pretty" wasn't a descriptor the mercenary was after.

"You said you didn't wish to kill any of your siblings, is that so?" Byleth asked, breaking Claude's reverie.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I mean, I'd prefer not to." He shrugged as he ran a soapy hand through his hair. "I did grow up with them, after all. Sometimes a death during honorable combat is unavoidable, which makes that preferable to assassination, but still. My siblings are among the strongest warriors in the land; it would be a waste to kill them off when they could make valuable allies in the future."

"It seems dangerous to keep them around," Byleth said, stretching an arm over his chest. "If they live, can't they simply challenge you again and again?"

"Once Dad retires, a challenge to the successor would mean civil war. Some of them--and by that, I mean one of them--might dare it, but in the long run it's not worth it." Claude put those thoughts out of his head; he couldn't beat the twins if he was distracted by a future fight. "No, once Dad steps down, those of us who love this kingdom will fall in line. It isn't worth it to rule a ruined realm."

Byleth nodded, seeming to accept this. "Then my suggestion for the twins would be to permanently maim one of them. Cutting off a hand should do it."

The cube of soap leapt from Claude's hand, sinking beneath the water to waste away somewhere deep and secret. "What?!"

"The thing they value most is the anonymity their kinship grants them," Byleth said coolly. He splashed a little water over his shoulder to wash away a line of soap. "Relieving one of them of their sword hand not only eliminates a threat, but allows you to use the injured one as a weapon against the other. It's the most failsafe way to ensure their compliance."

Claude's jaw dropped. Sure, that was one method that could work. He couldn't even say he hadn't thought of something similar--although his plan had been more along the lines of a disfiguring scar, rather than the loss of a limb, but still!

"That's...one idea," Claude said, trying to sound agreeable. "But it could also garner sympathy for them, and it would certainly turn the both of them against me."

Byleth shrugged. "If you hold the one you've injured, the other will comply."

"Yeah, but keeping a prisoner for life is a little..." Claude made a gesture with his hand, as if groping for the correct word. "Strenuous." He pushed off the wall of the tub, one long stroke fetched him up against Byleth's body, his knees straddling Byleth's lap beneath the water. "My plan is a bit more complicated, but leaves room for the twins to support my eventual rule voluntarily in the future. It's so much better when the other party is _willing,_ wouldn't you say?"

Byleth's hands circled Claude's waist, pulling him down into Byleth's lap before sliding back to grip his ass. Claude smiled winningly as he looped his arms behind Byleth's neck. Claude caught a glimpse of the mercenary's rare almost-smile. "Willing or not, there's always a way."

"Heh." Claude settled into Byleth's lap, appreciating his shoulders and the hard planes that made up his chest and back muscles. Everything else was obscured by the water, but he could enjoy those by grinding down against Byleth. Though his body and libido were enjoying the game, his head stayed on task. "You're right about the twins feeling superior in their act of anonymity, and we absolutely need to neutralize that first. But I'd rather use it to drive the twins apart, rather than turn them both against me. If we can create discord between the twins, then we've won."

"Hm." Claude felt the thoughtful rumble as if it transferred from Byleth's chest into his own. Byleth's fingers were kneading deep into Claude's ass. "What makes you so sure?"

"A lifetime of watching their squabbles." Claude tried to say it off-handedly, but it was hard not to get distracted by those clever fingers creeping their way towards that tender ring of muscle. "We can talk about it later, though, if you'd rather attend to some...other business first."

A cruel smirk in response. "I think you should keep explaining. I like hearing you talk."

Claude's laugh turned into a startled gasp as a finger traced the valley down between his cheeks to rub at the puckered flesh there. He cleared his throat and attempted to carry on explaining his plan. "The twins were always the smallest of all of us growing up--probably due to their Brigid heritage. I mean we're all roughly the same age, so it's nothing to do with that. And since they were the smallest--" A hitch in his breath as a finger teased his entrance. "--they, unfortunately, were picked on the most by the rest of us. So they figured out how to band together and rely on each other. No matter what the rest of us did, the twins at least always had each other." Claude paused, letting out a slow breath as he convinced his body to relax against the insistent intrusion. One of Byleth's hands was petting his lower back as the other gently probed inside him. "Now, we all squabbled as kids, because what kids don't? But no one got into it worse than when the twins turned against each other. When that happened, it was hell for everybody. Nowhere was safe because the twins would set traps for each other--vicious ones, too. It would get to the point that Tahj and Azida and I would trick them into a room together and seal them both inside until they beat some sense into each other. And, ah." Claude laughed. "Maybe a time or two I instigated a twin-fight when I knew I was leaving the palace for a little while."

"Yeah?" Byleth asked, the length of his middle finger sheathed entirely inside Claude. "So what does it take to start a fight with the twins?"

"Used to be just hiding one of their treasured possessions was enough," Claude said, rocking back, but slowly--water was not a great lubricant at all, but the pressure was nice. "This time around, I was planning on using you."

"Me?" Byleth paused, frowning. "How do you mean?"

"Well, you saw how Cori was flirting with you back at the house," Claude reminded him, grateful for the momentary pause. "They think you're my lover--which you are, in a way. The twins love to play games, and taking something that belongs to someone else is a favorite of theirs. They're already going to try to steal you from me, so my plan is for you to play a little hard to get." Claude grinned as he ground back into Byleth's touch. "But we'll play it like you can actually tell them apart and prefer one over the other."

"Let myself be seduced?" Byleth asked, withdrawing his finger almost all the way before adding a second and pushing in again. Claude hissed as he adjusted but Byleth ignored it. "How far should I take this plan of yours?"

"As far as you’re comfortable," Claude replied, shifting almost constantly now. There was a bottle of oil on the tray of soap, but Byleth seemed to be willfully ignoring it. "It’s not like you’re actually mine or any--" Stars broke out across Claude's vision; he barely kept himself from yelping as Byleth curled his fingers against that singular spot inside of him.

"There's a problem with your plan," Byleth said calmly, not relenting his pleasurable assault. "If I were to ignore one twin and focus my attention on the other, I would have to be able to tell them apart. Which, as of right now, I can't."

"I know!" Claude gasped, conflicted as to whether he wanted to keep pressing back against Byleth to get off, or pull away so he could keep speaking intelligibly. "It's--I'll--There's--" He groaned, hard and loud, leaning his forehead against Byleth's shoulder, giving up the fight. His erection was trapped against Byleth's washboard abs and between grinding on Byleth's touch and rubbing off on his stomach, Claude couldn't focus any longer.

"Can’t have that," Byleth said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. One powerful arm circled Claude's waist, pulling him in close. The other hand never let up on Claude's sweet spot. "You had better focus yourself, prince. If you can't finish telling me the plan, then I'm not going to let you finish."

Claude gave a helpless little moan, fingers curling into claws on Byleth's shoulders. They'd never done anything close to this yet--before it had always been about getting Byleth off; if Claude wanted his own release, he'd had to handle it himself. This was really the first time Byleth was touching him in a more intimate way than fucking his mouth or pulling his hair. And without the use of oil to smooth the way, Byleth's touch was on the near side of painful--but then, that was how he seemed to like it. Despite the stretch and the non-existent lubricant, Claude still found himself on edge, eager to spill over. He tried to speak but it came out strained, more like a cough or a grunt. He'd have any easier time talking if he could just...just...

The arm around Claude's waist disappeared, instead reaching between them, tracing the muscles of Claude's stomach down, down, down past his cock, just barely cupping his hyper-sensitive balls.

"Wait!" Claude recoiled from that touch, the one that would likely keep him from reaching his finish. "Wait, it's..." He panted, trying to make his brain and mouth work together. "I know you can't...tell them apart. I thought...I thought we could use hand signals."

"Hand signals?" Byleth repeated, his voice infuriatingly calm. "As in, you would signal to me which twin is which?"

"Yes," Claude gasped, one hand on Byleth's wrist, holding it away so he could grind back on Byleth's touch while thrusting up against Byleth's stomach. It wasn't enough pressure, not by a long shot, but it was better than letting Byleth delay his orgasm.

"Based on how they were acting today, I should ignore Cori and focus my attention on Tori. Does that sound right?" Despite Claude's hand on his arm, Byleth still managed to drag his nails down Claude's thigh, making him shiver and gasp. "What hand signal am I looking for if Tori is the one in front of me?"

"O-o-open palm," Claude stammered. His eyes squeezed shut, he was so close now...

"Ah, I see." How could this dastard be so cool while inflicting such exquisite torment? "And then the signal for Cori would be...?"

"Closed fist." Claude spat the words, in a hurry to get them out.

"Good boy," Byleth murmured. He twisted his arm free of Claude's grip and reached between them, grasping Claude's length with steady firm pressure. Claude just about screamed as he rutted up into Byleth's grip. The water created drag: it was almost as painful as it was pleasurable, but he couldn't stop himself, not now. "And what's the best way to let Tori seduce me? Should I declare my intentions outright, or posture and flirt like Cori did earlier? Or is there a better way?"

"Slow," Claude whimpered.

"Slow down?" Claude nearly cried when the pressure against his sweet spot became a periodic tap, the strokes on his length languid and long. "Is that what you said?"

"No!" Claude bucked furiously but couldn't get Byleth to pick up the pace. "Slow play! Slow play Tori or else they'll suspect a trap. It'll go best if--" Claude broke off with a yell as Byleth resumed his former pace.

"Best if what?" Byleth asked, the lilt of a tease in his voice. "What's the best strategy? Tell me, Prince Claude."

Claude bit the knuckle of his hand not currently digging bloody crescents into Byleth's shoulder. He used the self-inflicted pain to clear his mind and focus his words. "Best if you fight them. Both of them. Express interest in Tori after--they're the better fighter, anyway."

"Tori is?" Byleth asked, as if genuinely curious. "How can you tell?"

"I just--I can!" Claude was on the brink, pleasure and pain, heat and pressure, all coiled up inside him ready to tear right through his skin. His back arched as he rode the sensations, every muscle in his body stretched taut, aching for that sweet, sweet release. Hell, at this rate he was likely to pass out when he finally got what he needed--if Byleth let him get what he needed.

His orgasm struck like the resounding boom of a gong: violent, sudden and reverberating through every bone, muscle and sinew. Claude's vision went dark as his passion pulsed out of him, his entire body falling limp and useless all at once.

I could drown, Claude thought, feeling the water surround him as he collapsed. He could see only darkness. In a moment he'd inhale only water. But Byleth wouldn't let him drown...would he?

"I have you." Though Claude felt water lapping at his ears, he sank no further. His vision came back slowly as he gulped down greedy swallows of air. Slowly he became aware of Byleth's arm around his shoulders, keeping him upright when he felt certain he could have sunk straight to the bottom of the tub. "Come back, prince. We have more to discuss."

Claude swept a wet and shaking hand over his forehead, pushing his hair off his face. "If you want it to be an intelligent discussion, you should pour me some of that wine. I'm still a little adrift from all of that just now."

"Hmph." Byleth gave that look that seemed to be half amused, half calculating. He did, however, reach out and uncork the wine, pouring a cup for each of them. The wine was just barely cool and cut through the post-orgasm clouds muddling Claude's mind. He drained the glass, then swam to the edge of the tub, hooking his elbows over the sides. The cool air on his skin and in his lungs helped clear his head almost as much as the wine did. Byleth set his empty cup down next to Claude's at the edge of the tub. "Need another?"

"No, not right now." Claude felt hazily sated; he could have happily fallen asleep if he weren't in a tub. "But tonight at the night market, we should play up the angle that we're lovers. That's the bait that will draw the twins in. And keep your eyes open--they love surprise attacks."

"You think they'll attack me?" Byleth asked.

"I think they'll attack _us,_ " Claude corrected. "But I'll probably let you handle them. If I could have beaten them, I would have done it at the competition."

Byleth lifted himself out of the tub to sit on the edge, water streaming down his muscular body in rivulets. His cock was fully erect, thick, heavy and dusky against the muscles of his stomach. Claude appreciated the view from his spot without moving. "You think they'll attack us tonight at the night market?"

"No, I think they'll put on their usual display to help with the collection," Claude said, stifling a yawn. Too bad they wouldn't have time for a nap before the night market. "They might attack afterwards, when we're on our way home. Or they might wait until tomorrow. Who can say? They like to be unpredictable."

"I thought you knew them," Byleth said, tone even.

"I do. As well as anyone." Claude shrugged indolently, dunking his shoulders beneath the water to feel it rush down his back. "I predict they will be unpredictable."

"That isn't as helpful to a strategy as you seem to think it is," Byleth pointed out. "You expect them to attack sometime, but have no idea when to best expect it. You expect they'll attack the both of us, but you plan on ducking out of that fight at the first opportunity. You expect me to do all the work of seducing one of them without being able to tell them apart. A lot of this so-called plan revolves around me."

"Like I said: if I could have beaten them on my own, I would have." Claude smirked up at Byleth. "You're not trying to back out of the deal now, are you? The twins are going to be the easiest of my siblings. It only gets harder from here on out."

"Hmph." Byleth reached down, one hand toying with Claude's hair. "For all that, I think you need to make at least one more payment."

Claude chuckled as he rolled off the wall of the tub. He ducked beneath the water and surfaced between Byleth's legs. "You know I'm game for it as long as you are. It's time for you to start pulling your end of this bargain, too, now."

Byleth cupped Claude's chin, tipping his head back until their eyes met. "I've never had anyone complain about me upholding my end. I trust you won't, either."

"We'll see." Claude twisted his chin out of Byleth's grip and swam to the edge of the tub, his knees finding purchase on the underwater bench, one arm looping around Byleth's waist to anchor himself in place. That impressive erection was still flush with Byleth's toned stomach. Claude wrapped a hand around it, stroking it once before holding it to his lips, holding Byleth's eyes tauntingly as his tongue flicked out over the slit.

So far, almost every time Claude initiated a blowjob, Byleth would start off enjoying it, then would suddenly and roughly manhandle Claude down for a fairly vicious face-fucking. He'd gotten better at expecting that, as well as holding back on resisting because that usually only made it worse, but if he could, he'd still rather avoid that outcome. The one time Byleth hadn't thrown Claude down flat on his back had been the time when Claude had stayed entirely attentive and lathed every bit of attention he could on the task. It was a bit hard to focus that finely now, especially as Claude was feeling so recently sated and he couldn't entirely vanquish his concern over the twins, but he'd give it a shot. Anything had to be better than letting Byleth drag him out of the tub to take him on the hard, cold floor, right?

Claude kept his grip loose and light on Byleth's length while he teased with his tongue and lips. Byleth slid his hand back through Claude's hair, fingers only loosely curled in his locks. He'd know if Byleth was starting to get frustrated based on the pull in his hair: he'd learned that much, at least. Claude sucked the purple crown into his mouth, pressing the cleft hard with his tongue, using a swallowing motion to increase pressure before stroking with both his tongue and his hand. The trick was to tease while working towards the eventual finish, with no wasted movement, no break in momentum. It wasn't Claude's usual style--he enjoyed tempting and teasing--but Byleth wouldn't stand for being kept on edge. And Claude was nothing if not flexible.

Alternating pressure and stroking, Claude slicked up the entirety of Byleth's cock with his tongue, tasting only mineral water and traces of soap. The heavy odor of days on the road, unwashed clothes and abbreviated ablutions had been scoured away, hopefully for good. Claude had no intention of going back to living so rough, not now that the palace was so close. If only--No, no. Claude schooled his thoughts just as the hand in his hair began to tense. Focus. Be in the moment.

He quickly swallowed Byleth's cock down, nodding his head in a simulation of a fuck, earning a small grunt of satisfaction from Byleth. Claude undulated his tongue in time with strokes along the base of the shaft with his hand. Byleth always liked to be sunk-to-the-hilt-deep, which Claude tried to simulate without actually losing the ability to breathe. He changed up the angles, hollowed his cheeks with increased suction and began steadily increasing his rhythm. Gradually, he was rewarded with Byleth loosening his grip on his hair. 

Byleth even began rocking into Claude's mouth shallowly, one hand placed on the floor behind him to keep his balance. Byleth could hold on for an interminably long time, so to speed things up, Claude began to hum, sending vibrations running up Byleth's cock. And, for the first time, he tried something a little new: he drew back, leaving saliva glistening along the length, then slid his hand down to gentle cradle Byleth's balls. He then swallowed the entire length down the base, working on the new deep-throating skills he'd been forced to acquire ever since agreeing to this form of payment to the mercenary. 

Claude was rewarded by the gentle cupping at the back of his head--a brace more than an added force--and kept the rhythm going deep and steady. He fondled Byleth's balls, tracing circles on the sensitive skin, squeezing gently, massaging lightly. Another strong hum and Byleth drew a sharp breath, hips shuddering, thighs just beginning to shake. Claude decided to take all of that as a good sign and kept working at it until Byleth came with grunt, hips canting forward, hand in Claude's hair holding him still. Claude swallowed obediently, waiting until Byleth withdrew to cough and spit into the tub. He pushed away from the wall, dunking his hair one last time before lifting himself to the edge of the tub and stepping out. He shivered, the water having long since gone cold.

"I think I like these Almyran bath houses," Byleth commented, pouring the remainder of the wine into their cups. "I could get used to this."

Claude chuckled as he toweled his hair dry. "Wait until you see the bathing pools in the palace. There's fountains and waterfalls, perfumes and oils, attendants and musicians and colorful birds and wyvern whelps." He caught himself smiling as he wrapped a towel around his waist. "One pool is even fed from a mountain hot spring and stays warm even in the depths of winter. And you can take your pick of bathing partners, if you catch my drift." Claude winked.

"Is that so?" Byleth asked, handing Claude his cup of wine. "What if the partner I want has claimed the Almyran throne?"

"I'm sure we could work something out." Claude smirked. The wine wasn't cool anymore, but it still soothed his throat and cleared his head. By the time he finished the glass, Byleth was toweling off as well and pulling on the borrowed bathhouse robe. Claude ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face to dry, then tugged on a robe as well. When they left the bathing chamber, they were shown to a room with mirrors, hair oils, and make-up as well as their freshly laundered clothes. Byleth dressed in his usual mercenary blacks while Claude shimmied into his travel-weary clothing, at least feeling better now that the road dirt had been washed away.

"Ready to head to the night market?" Claude asked after a final look in the mirror.

Byleth finished lashing his sword to his belt. "Let's go over the hand signals one more time."

"Right. Good idea." Claude turned away from the mirror. "For Tori, you'll see something like this." Claude swept an open palm over his hair, then mimicked brushing crumbs off his shirt, hand wide open. "For Cori, you're looking for something like this." With a fist, Claude brushed the hairs along his jaw, then loudly cracked his knuckles on his opposite palm. "Got it?"

"Got it." Byleth nodded. "The twins move fast, though, so you better be on your game."

Claude laughed. "Trust me. Keeping up with the twins is exactly the way I play."

Night had fallen while they'd washed up, so they emerged onto a street lit by torchlight and moonlight reflected off the face of the mountain. Claude used a few of his precious coins to buy flatbread wraps full of steaming meat and herbs to keep back the chill of the night. He guided Byleth through the quiet, well-lit streets to the brilliantly illuminated city square, where it might as well have been midday, based on the sheer number of people out and about. Vendors wheeled carts around, shouting sales on everything from wine and food to medicines and magics. Families with children on shoulders or tugging at apron strings walked about leisurely while lovers strolled past the central fountain full of tinkling water. Urchins and thieves lurked in the shadows, darting hands into pockets, pouches and unguarded fruit stands, either making away with their prizes or hauled away by the guards. For the guards were everywhere in the night market--they had to be on a collection night. Beneath the general cheer of the market lay the grumble of those come to pay their taxes to the crown, but overall there was a spirit of anticipation, as the night's revelries had yet to get underway.

Claude towed Byleth to a spot between two torches, just at the edge of the central square. He bought two mugs of steaming wine from a passing vendor, giving one over to Byleth as they waited. Byleth gave an icy glare to an urchin creeping up behind them, scaring it away with no more than a flicker of his cold eyes. Claude almost laughed; it seemed sticking close to the mercenary was already worth something, at least.

In the few days since Claude had met him, he'd never seen Byleth fully at ease. Even in the bath house--even asleep--there was an air of watchfulness emanating from the mercenary. But now, so close to one of their objectives, Claude could see the tension in every line of Byleth's body. Sure, he appeared casual enough: sipping from a mug of wine, eyes following the ebb and flow of the crowd, stance solid and comfortable. But one hand was casually hooked over the hilt of his sword, his eyes missed no detail, and his breathing was light and shallow, indicating that he was listening for the slightest tell that someone was about to swoop down on him. Claude almost could have laughed. Any other night, he might anticipate a sneak attack. But not now--not this close to showtime.

A third of the torches illuminating the square went dark all at once. A muscle jumped in Byleth's jaw, though he made no other move. The crowd grew louder in surprise at the sudden dimming of the torches, then drew back to the edges of the square, leaving the center wide open. A moment like a held breath, then the patter of running feet over clay tiles: the twins were making their grand entrance.

Claude nudged Byleth's arm and pointed as the twins crested a rooftop across the square. Their motions were perfectly, beautifully synced as they pushed off the apex of the roof, turned a somersault in the air, then each landed on a knee in the center of the square. They were still dressed in the sheer clothing they'd appeared in at Claude's villa earlier, but now gems sparkled in the braids of their hair, at their wrists, waists and ankles. And when they drew themselves up to standing, Claude saw that wasn't the only change: the twins both now looked definitively female, complete with low-slung skirts on their hips and halter-tops that left their midriffs bare. They each even wore a sheer veil over their faces, weighted down with tiny gems that fluttered and flashed in the torchlight and even with years of experience, Claude was hard-pressed to tell the two apart until they began to move. The rapid percussion of drums resounded from somewhere north of the fountain, then chimes, flutes and bells joined in, creating the backdrop for the twins' performance.

Neither wore a sword tonight, so every movement was fluid like water, like air, like silk caught in a breeze. The step of a slender ankle here, the twirl of a fine-boned wrist there, and then a jaw-dropping roll of the hips. The twins danced in perfect sync, never once looking at the other or checking themselves against the beat. This dance was as ingrained in them as swordplay was: deathly beauty encased in every step.

There was no big difference between Tori and Cori that gave them away, but rather the insignificant details that neither twin cared to shave away. Cori always stepped out more boldly, eyes just slightly sharper than Tori's, as if narrowed in perpetual challenge. Tori's movements were always smoother and more refined, like an aged wine rather than a fresh-pressed one. Even though they danced in perfect unison, Claude soon picked out which was which, waiting for them to make their move.

While he wasn't sure which twin spotted them first, Claude was certain that the one who shimmied tantalizingly just out of Byleth's reach was Tori. He signaled by yawning into his open palm. A few beats later, Cori twirled into the mercenary, casting a silken scarf around Byleth's shoulders before undulating down to an almost-crouch and back up again. Claude was still rubbing his jaw with the knuckles of his closed fist when Cori fluttered away, leaving the silk scarf behind. Byleth pinched it between two fingers and, wearing a face of disgust, dropped it to the ground, where a breeze (or possibly a thief) carried it away.

The twins' dance continued for as long as the rhythm of the drums held out. They must have incorporated mages into the routine as well, for Claude noticed torches winking on and off around the square in perfect harmony to the music and the dance. The music grew wildly louder, faster, making the twins speed their movements, step faster, twirl harder, bend deeper. It was entrancingly beautiful, even Claude had to admit. The dance finished with a leap through the spray of the fountain, each twin bending forward in a bow over one knee, the other leg stretched out behind in an almost-split. The torches all winked out at once and the crowd burst into applause. Slowly the torches flickered back on, revealing the twins standing with their hands clasped above their heads. They gave a bow in each direction of the square, then dropped each other's hand. Though the ephemeral silks almost hid it in the darkness, Claude noticed the heaving of their chests as they caught their breath and the sheen of sweat on their skin. By Byleth's half-nod, he noticed, too. It was impossible to give such a flawless performance without expending a great deal of energy.

"I can see why you think they won't attack tonight," Byleth said, turning into Claude to whisper intimately in his ear. Claude silently approved of the gesture. "But why give such a performance that leaves them weak afterwards? Aren't they supposed to guard the collected taxes?"

"Even now, they're more than a match for any average fighter." Claude turned into Byleth, drawing him close with a hand cupped around the back of Byleth's neck, close enough to kiss. "And they aren't the tax collectors' only defense, just the flashiest part of it. Besides, no one's going to risk stealing from the tax collectors in the shadow of the palace: the royal army could be here in minutes. It's a little different when collecting in other cities around the kingdom."

"Doesn't this look cozy?" Cori popped up beside them, smiling cheekily beneath the sheer veil. "Don't tell me you're considering stealing from the take, little brother. Although if you do try it, at least make it interesting for us."

Claude threw a soft punch at Cori's shoulder as a signal to Byleth. "Nah, of course not! I mean, not to say I couldn't, but you can clearly tell I'm not armed tonight." Claude grinned. "Guess it's your lucky night."

"Ah, but Claude." Tori approached from the opposite side, coming through the crowd somehow. "Though you love to flash that gaudy bow around, we all know it's not your only weapon. Tell me, how many poisons are you hiding on your person today?"

Claude laughed, brushing his hair back with an open palm sheepishly. "You think too much of me. I can barely afford food these days, let alone poison. Pretty soon I'll be down to hawking that gaudy bow just to get a decent meal."

"Shame," Cori said, sounding bored. Somehow, Cori had shimmied tight against Byleth's side, hooking Byleth's arm around their waist. "You know you could always flee to Fodlan. I heard your mother had some land out there or something, perhaps even an inheritance for you."

"I might consider it if Almyra weren't already so interesting," Claude said, hiding a grin as Byleth pulled away from Cori. "And I did promise to consider your offer, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Tori sounded thoughtful, though their eyes were only for Byleth. "Why don't we sweeten the deal just a little? Bring your paramour over to our villa tomorrow for tea. We'll make sure to set out a banquet spread so you don't have to worry about starving for at least another day. Isn't that kind of us?"

"If you do say so yourself," Claude quipped.

Cori tried to sidle up against Byleth again, but he sidestepped and met Tori's gaze. "I enjoyed watching you dance," Byleth said, sans inflection. "I'd enjoy watching you fight more."

Tori's grin was wicked. "We're even better with blades in hand, if you can believe it. Even this schemer can't break our guard." He flicked a hand at Claude. "Perhaps if you're very good we'll show you a thing or two after tea tomorrow."

"Or," Cori said, leaning in between the two of them to wink salaciously. "You could just be really bad. You'd see our sword skills then, too."

Byleth's gaze slid off Cori like grease over water. Claude noticed the faint almost-smile on Byleth's face as he addressed Tori, feeling something akin to either wonder at the mercenary's good acting, or jealousy for that smile to be directed at someone who wasn't him. "I'll look forward to tea, then."

Tori flashed a smile at Byleth before critically assessing Claude. "We'll look forward to hearing your answer tomorrow, Claude. Leave the schemes at home if you ever want to get back into the palace."

"And here I was thinking you wanted me for my schemes!" Claude placed a hand over his chest as if mortally wounded.

Cori bumped his shoulder as they moved to stand beside their twin. "And yet, if you were any good at them, you wouldn't have lost the competition to become the heir."

Ouch. No really, ouch. That dig actually hurt. Claude kept his smile up anyway: never let them see you bleed.

A captain of the royal guards approached, bowing low to let the twins know that the collection was ready to be moved to a safe-house, prior to being escorted back to the palace. Tori and Cori sighed in unison.

"Our dreary duty awaits," Tori said.

"We'll see you at tea tomorrow!" Cori winked once more, and then, on the same step, the twins turned and followed the guard, each accepting a sword from an attendant before lashing them to their belts with identical movements.

"I'll give you one thing," Byleth said, lowering his voice so that only Claude would hear.

"What's that?" Claude asked, grinning.

"Your siblings certainly do seem to represent a unique challenge."

Claude laughed. "And just think: these are the weakest of the four!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is to update monthly, but if you want to know when the next chapter is dropping, you can subscribe or follow me on [Twitter](%E2%80%9D).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth enact their plan to turn the twins against each other, but are the twins already a step ahead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a real shame we don’t get more details about Almyra in the game and I’m not entirely certain on the fanon of Almyran life and lifestyles, so I made up a lot of background info here. I hope it doesn’t clash too hard with any of the other head canons out there!

"Okay, so, one more time: expect the unexpected, be careful accepting anything they offer you, and watch for my hand signals," Claude coached Byleth just outside the sprawling villa owned by the twins' mother. "Oh, and don't forget you're in love with me. Should we hold hands? Or is that too much?"

Byleth's gaze flicked coolly over to Claude. "Are you sure you're up for this? You seem tense."

"Yeah, I'm good, I'm ready." Claude shook out his hands, bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, blew out a breath of air. Then stopped and looked up at Byleth. "Why? Don't I look up for this?"

Byleth seemed coldly amused. "If you're having second thoughts about this plan to disgrace your siblings, you could always just team up with the twins and accept whatever pittance they offer you in repayment."

Claude chuckled, a grin stretching across his face. "Nah, it's not nerves. It's more like...anticipation. I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Then let's get to it." Byleth nodded, gesturing for Claude to take the lead. Claude smoothed his face and led the way through the elaborate front garden of cut stone, sparkling fountains and brilliantly colored flowers, bushes and trees. As the twins' mother was from Brigid, her villa in the city boasted a tropical garden of imported plants, kept alive year-round by a team of mages that Claude had to imagine could be put to better use than gardening, but the king of Almyra rarely said no to any of his wives, and so he used the spoils of constant war against Fodlan to pay the mages for the upkeep of this garden, as well as the secondary garden within the Almyran palace itself. It might be wasteful, but it kept Claude's auntie from Brigid happy. The twins themselves didn't seem to care much for the traditions or customs of Brigid, having never been there themselves, though they did seem to appreciate the style of dress. Claude appreciated it, too: the less clothing the twins wore, the easier it was to stick a dagger in their backs.

The archway into the villa stood open, a servant waiting just inside the doorway bowed as Claude strode through.

"Young Master Claude, I have been expecting you." Though the servant's tone was polite, Claude smirked inwardly at the obvious slight: his official title should have been "prince" or at least "highness." Clearly the twins meant to rub his disgrace in his face. "Their Highnesses Corinne and Torinne have requested that you take tea with them on the palace overlook. There's a stunning view of the mountains today."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason," Claude said with a barely restrained eyeroll. The entryway was as lavish as the garden outside: the walls were draped in billowing silks, ornate pots of riotous flowers were set in corners and a shallow pool of tranquil water strewn with flower petals dominated most of the floor space. Claude approached a bronze bowl set upon a plinth and washed his hands in perfumed water, with Byleth copying him only steps behind. Once clean, the servant held a towel out to each of them to pat their hands dry. Though he hadn't been here since he'd been a child, Claude remembered where the overlook was--after all, it had to be on the side of the villa facing the palace, didn't it? But before he took more than a single step, the servant cleared his throat loudly. Claude froze midstep, groaning inwardly.

"Surely Young Master Claude has forgotten something?" the servant inquired, implying that he knew Claude had not, in fact, forgotten. "The Still Waters Bring Peaceful Hearts ritual?"

"Are the twins insisting on it?" Claude asked, eyeing the pool in the middle of the entryway doubtfully. "I thought only Auntie cared about Brigid rituals."

The servant looked pained; Claude had no doubt his "auntie" would be hearing about this. "The twins would never set aside such a tradition of their homeland! If you come in peace, you must walk through the cleansing waters."

"Yeah, yeah." Claude kicked out of his boots, shooting Byleth an apologetic expression before indicating he do the same. Byleth frowned, but followed suit. He looked even less pleased when the servant took both sets of boots away.

"What is this?" Byleth asked, voice low.

"We have to walk through the pool," Claude explained, flicking a hand at the ankle-deep pool of water. "As if the twins give a shit about homeland rituals. They've never even been to Brigid."

"Is it dangerous?" Byleth asked, eyes narrow.

"Probably not." Claude rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "But if my villa had one of these and I was expecting someone I didn't trust, you can bet I'd find a way to poison or drug the water somehow. It's not a bad idea, really, but I guess Fodlan doesn't have any traditions quite this exotic."

"Young master?" the servant said inquiringly. Claude and Byleth had kept their voices low as they discussed the pool. The servant stood waiting patiently for them to cross the water. "Have no fear: your footwear will be properly cleaned and restored to you as you leave."

"Yeah, that's what I was worried about," Claude said sarcastically. With a breath to steel himself, he stepped tentatively into the pool.

The water was lukewarm, the floor was rough enough to keep his feet from slipping. Petals clung to his ankles as he waded through them. The water was scented, which made Claude nervous. Was the scent hiding something? A drug? A poison? Or was it simply a perfume? He hated this stupid ritual. He wished he'd remembered it sooner and had thought up a suitable counter to it.

It only took four strides to clear the pool and on the far side, the carpet was thick and lush. Claude stamped his feet a few times to dry them, watching as Byleth crossed the pool, expression unreadable. The servant bowed to them once they were across, then disappeared--presumably to polish their boots for them--another ritual Claude hated. It would be so easy to rub a contact poison onto boot leather for an untraceable death. He shook his head to clear it, reminding himself that the twins weren't quite that underhanded: that level of paranoia came from his own preference for poisons and secrets, not from fear of the twins.

"Not too bad," Byleth commented as he stepped onto the thick carpet beside Claude. "You should have told me I wouldn't be able to wear my boots here."

"Slipped my mind," Claude said, honestly. "I haven't been here in years. I haven't really been on good terms with any of my siblings ever since the day our dad told us we were going to have to fight it out to see who would become his heir one day."

"I can see how that might discourage any feelings of familial loyalty," Byleth commented dryly.

Claude snorted. He led the way down the airy corridor to the balcony he barely remembered. The twins' family villa was built over one of the valley's drop-offs, so the balcony that looked out on the mountains was actually a marble and stone construction over a sheer drop, almost as bad as a cliffside. A thin, carved railing ringed the edge like a fence and marble columns supported a thin metal trellis covered by a silken shade cover. Long, luxurious chairs and soft, square pillows were placed around a low table in the center of the palatial balcony in the Almyran fashion, all facing out to look over the Almyran palace and the mountains beyond it. A tea service steamed on the table and bowls of cut fruit and peeled grapes glistened in the light that passed through the silk awning. The entire setting was beautiful.

But.

Claude caught Byleth's arm just before he passed through the archway to the outside, his every sense on alert.

The stage was set for tea and negotiations.

But where were the twins?

Byleth caught Claude's wordless tension, one hand going to the sword on his belt as he slowly sank into a swordsman's crouch. Claude scanned the pavilion, looking for likely hiding places when a silk curtain billowed to his left, drawing his attention for a split second too long.

The attack, of course, came from the right.

One of the twins--Claude couldn't tell which because Byleth pivoted to step in between them to meet the attack--charged through a silken hanging, one that Claude had thought had a solid wall behind it. He coolly made note of the hidden alcove or possible secret passage as he put his back against Byleth's, searching the pavilion for the other twin. He heard the ring of steel on steel as swords crashed, then heard a surprised grunt before the weight at his back disappeared. Startled, Claude glanced back to see that Byleth had dropped to a knee, his sword braced in both hands above his head to fend off a blow from above. The twin smirked as they pressed their weight into the attack.

Before Claude could wonder what had knocked the Ashen Demon off his feet, a shadow flickered over the silken awning, giving him the barest warning before the second twin swung down from a marble column, landing lightly on the railing before pushing off of it, sword extended towards Claude's chest. He backpedaled quickly, then discovered the reason for Byleth's fall: the marble floor of the pavilion felt greased somehow and moving quickly made his feet go out from beneath him, as if he stood on ice. Rather than attempt to recover his balance, Claude let gravity take him, hitting the floor hard on his shoulders and back. As the twin from the railing flew at him, Claude rolled up, tipping his head to the side to avoid the sword-strike as he caught their arms and landed a kick in their stomach as he rolled back, throwing them to the far side of the pavilion. Before he could recover, the sounds of clashing steel drew near and he had to throw himself to the side to avoid being stomped on by Byleth and his opponent. He fetched up under one of the chaise chairs, whipping his legs beneath it just ahead of his sibling's sure step. While he caught his breath, Claude noted how Corinne (or Torinne, whichever it was) stepped without fear of slipping or sliding, while Byleth had simply altered his steps to sliding motions, bracing himself through his torso and shoulders to meet each sword strike solidly. But how could Torinne (or Corinne) stand so firmly while Byleth had to focus on every movement?

Claude wasn't able to ponder long before the sibling he'd kicked across the room recovered, the light tip-tap of running steps letting him know they were heading straight for him. He twisted his head to watch them coming, noting the moment their feet left the floor in a leap. The couch-like chair creaked ominously and Claude could only picture his sibling angling their scimitar straight down through the cushions at him. He braced his knee and hands against the left side of the chair's base and shoved up hard, flipping the chair over onto its side. He lost his cover, but at least he didn't get stabbed. Yet.

Either Claude's sibling had anticipated the chair-flip, or their practice as a swordsman and dancer paid off, because instead of tumbling to the floor, they merely stepped over the roll of the chair, like a log in water and landed neatly in a crouch on the other side while Claude scrambled away. He hadn't brought his bow--that would have been bad manners--so the only real weapon he had was a short dagger on his belt. He drew it as he jumped to his feet, knowing it wouldn't do much good against his sibling's scimitar.

Tori--Claude could tell it was Tori now that they were face to face--grinned wickedly and charged, feet barely making a sound on the marble floor. Claude felt his feet slide on the floor and knew he didn't have a chance at meeting the charge head-on. He could side-step, but doing so quickly would likely make him fall again. Instead, he feinted like he was going to side-step, the dropped to a knee, narrowly avoiding the sword swing. Tori danced away quickly to avoid Claude's knife cutting into their ankle. Before they could make their next attack, Claude coiled his legs beneath him and leapt up, catching the latticework of the awning above them one handed as he used his knife to slash through the silk. He hooked one leg over the lattice, then hauled himself up, taking only a second to catch his balance before making a teetering run across the thin steel beams.

After all, if he could jump that high, Tori could certainly follow.

Claude spun, dropping into a defensive stance just as Tori followed, bare feet braced far more assuredly on the thin poles than Claude’s were. They grinned wickedly.

"Does this mean you figured out the trick?" Tori asked, almost curious.

"You put something in the foot bath," Claude guessed. "The one your servant made certain we walked through. And you coated the balcony floor with something that reacts to whatever you put in the pool."

Tori's grin grew. "Very good. Mama always did say you were the quick one. Although, it's really only the oil from the flower petals that makes it slippery, so all we had to do was make sure the marble was recently waxed and polished."

"And let me guess." Claude gestured to Tori's bare feet. "You put something on your own feet for added traction. Tar, maybe?"

"Maybe." Tori rolled their sword, then sank into a crouch. "Defeat us and find out."

"Defeat you? I thought we came here to--" Rather than finish speaking, Claude stepped off the steel poles and onto the silk--the silk Tori was so precariously balanced on. Tori tried to correct and catch their balance, but Claude drove his dagger into the silk, a tear appearing between the new hole and the one he'd tore through it to climb up in the first place. With a yelp of surprise, Tori tumbled through the awning, disappearing from sight. Claude took a moment to smirk triumphantly, then clambered back up on the awning supports, wobbling dangerously to the marble pillar at the corner and wrapping an arm around it for balance. The shadow of the house fell over him here, so it would be harder for the twins to find him without revealing themselves first. Through the gashes cut into the awning, he caught flashes of movement: it looked as if Tori had joined Cori in attacking Byleth, or maybe Byleth had attacked Tori first--he was supposed to be Claude's bodyguard, after all. The awning was thin and pale enough that Claude was able to make out the shapes below it, but just barely. He couldn't follow the fight or the swordplay, but he could see Byleth's gliding motions, keeping him just out of reach of the twins' blades. He kept that golden blade all in one piece, rather than the fragmented chain-whip Claude knew it could become. That was good--Claude doubted the twins would come out unscathed if Byleth were to attack for real.

The trick with the flower petal oil had been a good one; Claude hadn't thought the twins were bright enough to come up with something so clever on their own. But here it worked against them: Byleth moved quicker than he would have normally while the twins were stuck taking hard, short steps, their feet unable to glide because of whatever they'd used to coat their soles. They still attacked in perfect unison, but Byleth was always just sliding out of reach before shifting his weight forward to catch them on their back swings. Even Claude could tell he was toying with them, which meant the twins had to know as well. If it went on too long, it would cease to be a game. If the twins went in seriously for the kill, they'd likely both end up dead. In the interest of preserving his plan, Claude sheathed his belt knife and waited for the fighters to come near the edge of the balcony, close to his hiding place.

The shadows made the timing tricky, so he wasn't entirely positive who was beneath him when he hooked his knees over the steel rail and swung down from the awning. He caught the slender wrist of one of the twins before swinging backwards, his sibling dangling from his grasp over the sheer drop beyond the balcony.

"Claude!" Cori shrieked, free hand dropping the scimitar in favor of closing over Claude's forearm in a death grip. "This is not funny! We were only playing with you both!"

"Oh? Just playing?" Claude asked, smirking as he hung upside, Cori dangling from his hand. "Are you done playing now?"

Cori's teeth clenched, making them look angry enough to spit.

"Oh, fine." It was Tori who responded. "We're finished. It was all a game anyway. Trying to see if your new lover could keep up with us." Even upside down, Claude could make out the sultry look Tori shot Byleth. Byleth, however, had already turned his back on Tori, stepping towards the edge of the balcony as if to assist Cori.

Ah, he's thinks he knows which is which, Claude thought in a sudden panic. Last time, Cori had been the outrageous flirt while Tori had been stoic. With that obviously wanton look on Tori's face, Byleth must have assumed he was facing Cori. 

Claude closed his free hand into a fist and pressed it against his breastbone as he addressed the twin in his grip. "Ah, nothing gets the heart going like a little friendly fighting, eh, Cori?"

Byleth froze midstep, obviously rethinking his assumption.

"I'm Tori," Cori said, thrashing miserably. "Are you going to put me down? Gently!" Cori cautioned as Claude shifted his weight so that they both hung over the abyss again.

"As if you wouldn't land on your feet anyway," Claude said, swinging back over the balcony and dropping Cori lightly to their feet. He reached up and grabbed hold of the bar he hung from, then unhooked his legs to drop down. Cori shot a disdainful look back at him, rubbing their wrist with narrowed eyes, as if wondering whether or not to push Claude over the railing. Claude only smirked at them. "Anyway, glad that's over. I've been starving since we--Ah, c'mon! You guys wrecked the snacks!"

The table had been overturned, the cut fruit spilled and crushed underfoot like casualties of war, the teapot reduced to shattered ceramic with steaming water pooling outward.

"He threw me into the table," Tori said, jerking their chin at Byleth, who looked completely unrepentant. Tori lowered their chin and flicked their eyes up and down the length of Byleth's body and added: "Lucky I like a man who can be forceful."

Claude watched as Byleth looked from Tori to Cori, as if still trying to get his bearings. That was fair: the twins had rebraided their hair since the night before, so it was no longer the twisting tower and high ponytail of whiplike braids. Instead, the braids were now threaded close to their skulls in neat rows and hung past their shoulders in thin tendrils. Neither wore any makeup, though they both wore gold chains around their wrists and ankles. Their clothing wasn't particularly suggestive of either masculine or feminine shapes, giving the both of them an overall androgynous appearance. If he looked too quickly, even Claude had trouble telling them apart, so it was no surprise that Byleth was thrown by the switch in their personas.

"We didn't really expect that food to last," Cori said with a cold shrug. "The servants will clean it up and then we can get down to business."

"I hope business comes with a side of food," Claude griped, only somewhat playfully. "The only foods in my mother's villa are hard beans and stale pine nuts."

"Don't worry, we'll feed you," Cori said, rolling their eyes. They crossed the balcony and shouted into the villa, summoning a team of servants who quickly went about setting the balcony to rights. Byleth remained perfectly still, making the servants work around him, while Claude retreated to the marble railing. He leaned back and scrubbed at the bottoms of his feet with a handkerchief. A moment later, Cori joined him, offering him a small flask.

Claude eyed the flask skeptically, then gave Cori a doubtful smirk. "You think I trust you that much?"

Cori laughed, a sharp sound. "It's not to drink. It's a grain alcohol. It'll take the oil off your feet."

"Well, in that case." Claude still sniffed the flask before pouring a little out onto his handkerchief. "So what did you guys put on your feet for traction?"

"Resin," Cori said with a simple shrug. "It isn't like the polish on the floor affected us that much, we just wanted the advantage."

"Not a bad idea," Claude said, switching to his other foot. "But it's kind of a limited-scope plan, isn't it? It isn't like there are Brigid footbaths littered all over the palace or anything. This plan only works in this location, and only if you can manage to bully your opponent into walking through the footbath."

"Worked well enough on you both," Cori said airily. "And if this was the type of idea that could give us an edge in the palace, then what need would we have for you, oh master tactician?"

Claude snorted in response. He pretended to focus on cleaning the oil off his foot while actually, he was watching Tori with Byleth in the center of the balcony. Tori was offering to clean Byleth's feet for him, a sultry look in their eyes. Still uncertain of the twin in front of him, Byleth flicked his eyes over to Claude. Claude laid his palm flat against his calf, wincing as if it pained him.

"I haven't had to pull acrobatics like that in years," Claude complained to Cori. "Fighting either of you is never straightforward, is it?"

"A straightforward attack against either Tahj or Azida will get us all killed," Cori replied, sauntering away from the railing. The balcony had nearly been set to rights: all the chairs and tables set back the way they had been before the fight, the floor mopped up. A few servants were working on fixing the silk awning Claude had slashed and others were just bringing out fresh platters of food. Byleth had allowed himself to be pushed into a chair and now Tori knelt before him, speaking softly as they rubbed the soles of Byleth's feet with a handkerchief. Cori strode past them as if not seeing them and dropped into a chaise, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. "So how would you attack them, brother?"

"With a full stomach," Claude retorted. He tested his feet against the floor before taking a step. the marble was still slick with polish, but his feet no longer went out from under him when he put his weight on them. He still stepped carefully as he made his way over to Byleth's chair, making sure to knock Tori's hands away from Byleth before taking a seat beside him. Tori scowled; Claude smirked. "You look good like that, Tori. Wanna wash my feet, too?"

"Maybe. If you were cuter." Tori cast another look up at Byleth before rising smoothly and taking a chair closer to Cori's. The table was now laid with bowls of fruits, cubes of meat and cheese, bowls of nuts and at least three different carafes of chilled wine. Even though his stomach growled, Claude leaned back from the table, waiting for his siblings to eat first; one could truly never be too careful, especially after the trick with the footbath. He did intertwine his fingers with Byleth on the seat of the lounge. It was a subtle gesture, but one that both the twins marked.

"Seriously, Claude," Cori said, leaning forward to select a single grape. "Tahj is one of the few people who can actually defeat the both of us in combat and Azida is as slippery as, well, you. I mean, maybe we could take Tahj in a sneak attack, if he was sleeping. But Azida." Cori lifted a slim shoulder in a shrug. "There's really no getting close to her."

Claude noted the questioning look Byleth shot at him, but ignored it. He'd tell Byleth everything he needed to about Azida when the time was right. For now, they had to focus on the twins. He leaned forward, stretching long over the table to select a grape from the same branch as Cori’s. "I don't think I remember agreeing to help you two. Remind me again why I want to support your claim over my own?"

"Because you have no claim, remember?" Tori said, spreading out to lie on the lounge, legs kicked up in the air above them. They poured themself a goblet of white wine, but messily, leaving splashes on the table and the floor. "You're not even a prince right now. You can't even be assigned to lead troops, not without an emergency order. We're your only ticket back into the palace."

"If we become the heir," Cori added on. They lifted their hand as if to select a piece of food, then yawned into their palm instead. "If you have a price you want, just name it. We can do anything once we're the king."

Claude hummed as if thinking it over. He was watching Tori out of the corner of his eye; they had yet to take a sip of the wine they'd poured. Fuck, but he was hungry! They had to be doing this on purpose, knowing he'd be suspicious of everything since their trick with the footbath.

Screw it, Claude finally decided. He scooted forward on his chair and smeared chickpea spread on a piece of flatbread, then took a large bite. Mmm. Hopefully he wouldn't live to regret that. By the way Byleth was looking at him, he thought it was a terrible idea, too.

"I'll have to think on it," Claude said, licking his fingers. "I mean, it's gotta be something equivalent to the throne, right?" He arched an eyebrow at Cori, the apparent leader of the negotiations today. "So aim higher than a seat on the council."

Cori and Tori exchanged a look. Tori swirled the wine in their goblet and raised it to their lips, but still didn't drink. Cori grabbed two pears and rolled them in their hand like toy balls.

"Your mother has connections to the Fodlan throne, doesn't she?" Cori asked, tone lilting.

"Fodlan doesn't have one throne," Byleth interrupted. "There are three separate kingdoms, united only by a common religion."

"They mean the Alliance," Claude explained, gesturing vaguely to the west. "Namely, the Throat, the only place we can attack in force."

"The Throat is the most easily attacked, but it's not the only place we can attack," Tori suggested. "We could use the navy. Come at them in a pincer attack. There's never been a truly grand campaign against Fodlan or the Alliance. We could make it happen."

"And then?" Claude asked, as if curious.

"And then, you leverage your mother's connections to take the throne of the Alliance," Cori finished, as if it were obvious. "You could either take it by force, or you could arrange a devious little plot where it looks like you're saving the Alliance from the Almyran army, whatever you want." Cori tossed the two pears up into the air. Twin flashes of silver cut the air, then both pears fell, each with a small dagger through the middle. Cori and Tori each caught a pear respectively and cut a slice off before popping it in their mouths. Even more impressive, Tori had flipped over on their lounge to lie on their back in order to throw the dagger; even Byleth looked impressed. "You're clever, Claude. Help us win the Almyran throne and we'll find a way to put you on a throne in Fodlan."

"I suppose that is rather tempting." Claude caught Byleth's eye and smirked. "How'd you like to be the lover of the Alliance's king?"

"The Alliance doesn't work like that," Byleth said, voice low. "It's usually ruled by a council, with a single figurehead. They don't have a throne or a king so much as a duke that speaks for the council."

"Then conquer the Alliance and call yourself king," Tori said flippantly. They inched back along the length of the chair, head hanging upside down to look up at Byleth. "Would you go with him, though? You two are that...committed?"

Byleth held his silence a beat, holding Tori's stare a moment longer than necessary before speaking. "Fodlan is my home. If I didn't have a reason to remain in Almyra, why would I stay?"

Tori smirked, rolling on the chair again. "I wouldn't mind giving you a reason or two to stay."

"Hey, now." Claude spat a grape seed at Tori. "Hands off my lover. That's another condition I have."

"So selfish," Tori pouted. "You used to share more."

"Well, I used to like you both a lot more, once upon a time." Claude grinned. "So what plans have you two geniuses come up with on your own so far? I don't want to rehash anything you've already tried."

"You mean aside from direct combat in the arena?" Cori asked.

"Never would have worked in the first place," Tori said with a sigh. "Even if we were two on one, Tahj knows our style too well."

"Tried a concubine-assassin. That might have worked."

"If his mother didn't personally check for weapons on anyone who visits his chambers."

Byleth looked surprised and confused by that; Claude laughed.

"We tried poisoning Tahj's drink a few times at feasts--"

"--but he only ever drinks from his own flask, which practically takes a key to open."

"We _did_ get poison into one of Azida's drinks--"

"--but nothing happened. Seriously, there was zero effect to the poison."

"We fed false information to one of Tahj's spies, hoping he'd stumble into a trap set by the Fodlan barbarians--"

"--but he defeated them all and came out looking like an even better warrior than before."

"We could try feeding him to a wyvern--"

"--but he'd probably end up taking the wyvern as a wife and sire an undefeatable wyvern-warrior army."

Cori and Tori threw their hands up simultaneously. "What are we missing?"

Claude would have laughed out loud if he hadn't just stuffed his mouth full of food. During the tirade, Tori had finally taken a sip from their goblet, so Claude poured himself a glass of the same wine, washing down the hopefully-not-poisoned food. "Sounds like you guys are really giving it your all." Limited though that may be, Claude added silently. "Have you been watching Tahj's habits? When does he leave the palace and why?"

As the twins talked, Claude ate his way through the selection of food--it wasn't as if he would be going home to a full pantry, so he might as well eat while he could. He listened with half an ear, though Byleth seemed riveted. Claude pretended not to notice when Tori sidled over from their chair to the one Claude shared with Byleth, pressing close against Byleth's side and even daring to feed him a grape before smiling coyly and leaning away. Cori remained stoic, sitting upright and eating only occasionally as they expounded upon the habits they had observed Tahj exhibit. Claude nodded politely, asking a few questions as he slowly and methodically cleared the table. By the time it was empty of all food, the mountains were casting shadows and a slight chill over the balcony.

"Well, you've certainly done your homework," Claude said as he finished the last gulp of wine. "You've given me a lot of really good information and I agree with you: this isn't going to be easy, nor could any of us take down Azida and Tahj on our own." Which is why I have Byleth--though he didn't say that out loud. "I'm going to have to think for a bit and come up with a strategy. When I do, I'll run it by you guys to see what you think."

"By all means," Cori said, shrugging indifferently. "We have some time before Father retires. But don't expect us to feed you again until you have something to share with us."

"Try not to starve in the meantime," Tori said with a smirk.

Claude laughed. "Next time, don't start a fight you can't win. That was a waste of perfectly good food!"

Tori and Cori shrugged in unison. Cori lifted a hand and a servant appeared to show Claude and Byleth out. At the entryway, they skirted the footbath and received their boots from the servant who had met them at the door. The boots had all been polished and even patched, as per the Brigid custom. Claude still checked each boot thoroughly for hidden traps or contact poisons before slipping them on. Just in case the twins were watching from some hidden vantage, Claude made sure to lean into Byleth's chest and briefly intertwine their fingers before they left the garden courtyard.

On the way back to Claude's family villa, Byleth stopped at a food stand and bought himself a few sticks of grilled meat and vegetables. They smelled delicious, but Claude knew better than to ask for one; he was still in Byleth's debt, after all.

"Was it really wise to eat the food they put out?" Byleth asked, eating as they walked.

"It was probably fine," Claude said with a shrug. "I mean, sure, the twins are capable of poison--they admitted as much when they said they poisoned Azida's drink--but they need me and I doubt they have access or even knowledge of some of the better poisons."

"Better poisons?" Byleth asked, as if curious.

"You know, like dependency poisons. The ones you have to keep taking or else you die. Or addiction poisons, although that does cross the line into 'drugging' territory." Claude shrugged. "A poison that kills instantly and painfully is easy to find, but not helpful in trying to use someone. I think I'm safe until the twins decide I've outlived my usefulness to them."

"So that offer to make you the ruler of the Alliance in Fodlan was a false promise?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Claude held his hands up like he was balancing scales. "It would be nice to expand Almyra's territory into Fodlan. Especially since those mountains that form the border are such great roosts for wyverns. But taking new territory is costly and the Alliance isn't exactly a push-over. Rather than a straight territory-grab, it makes more sense to set up an ally as a friendly king so that Almyra can take the pieces of the mountains it wants while the new king--" Claude placed a hand on his chest to indicate himself-- "Has to deal with the threats of both the Kingdom and the Empire in order to hold his claim. And that's only if the people of the Alliance accept me. Which." Claude shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I could have done that once, using my mother's connections, but that time has passed. It's Almyra or nothing for me, now."

"So you won't be taking the twins up on their offer." Byleth didn't state it like a question.

"No." Claude grinned. "But I will use the information they just gave me."

Back home, Claude locked the front door and double-checked the traps he'd set at the most obvious entryways. It was difficult to fortify such a large house against intruders without a proper house-staff, but he did all he could do. After checking every nook and cranny Claude could think of, he drew Byleth into his bedroom and locked the door, then closed all the shutters. He lit only a single oil lamp in the far corner before beckoning Byleth to him.

"Come here." Claude dropped his eyes. "I want those boots off of you."

Byleth raised an eyebrow, but refrained from asking any questions. He sat on the end of the bed and let Claude remove each of his boots. "Is this a fetish you've only just decided to share now?"

"Ha! No." Claude checked Byleth's boots as thoroughly as he had his own before pulling them on back at the twins' estate. He grinned in triumph as he found a hidden pocket sewn into the second boot he checked. He reached in with two fingers and withdrew a folded scrap of paper. "Looks like one of the twins had their servants slip you a note."

Byleth frowned. "How did they expect me to find that? I wouldn't have thought to look for it."

"That's why you have me," Claude replied with a wink. He shook the note open, reading the words quickly before handing it over to Byleth. "Looks like someone wants to meet up with you for a little one-on-one."

"Hm." Byleth's eyes skimmed the note. "It isn't signed. How do I know which twin to expect?"

"Even if it was signed, there's no telling which of them would be there," Claude pointed out.

"That's true." Byleth tossed the note aside. He eyed Claude, who suddenly realized he was still kneeling between Byleth's feet. "You're certain that the one who was fawning over me today was Tori?"

"Yeah, they switched." Claude pushed himself up to his feet. He wouldn't mind making another "payment" to Byleth tonight, but their time was short, thanks to the note Claude had found. "They're good at that."

"Does that mean I should switch my affections to Cori?" Byleth asked, watching as Claude paced the room.

"No, we stick to the original plan," Claude said firmly. "Pretend it's Tori that you've fallen for. So if Tori is the one you're meeting with tonight, maybe play up the flirtations a little." Claude paused and looked back at Byleth. "You can be flirty can't you?"

Byleth gave him a stony look.

"I'm just saying, playing at romance is a little different than shoving your dick down someone's throat," Claude pointed out. "Not that I mind, but you and I aren't actually lovers. Not the way the twins think we are."

"I'll get the job done," Byleth said in a flat tone that gave Claude little hope that he could, in fact be flirtatious. "What if it's Cori who shows up? And how do I tell them apart?"

"I'll go with you, obviously. Well, not obviously. I'll be there secretly so you can watch for our signals." Claude kicked open his travel pack of clothing, the one he hadn't quite unpacked yet. "I'll go as a nighttime beggar and get to the rendezvous spot before you. Maybe even make a few coins while I'm at it."

Byleth chuckled at that. "What do I say if Cori shows up?"

"Depends on what they're there to say." Claude kicked off his rough-but-nice clothes for his travel-worn, stained and threadbare ones. "If they're asking you to betray me, maybe play along. If it's a love confession, then stick to the 'sorry but I like Tori' story. By the way, whoever it is will probably say they are Tori, since you've already established a preference, so make sure to look to me for the hand signals. Oh, and be aware that the other twin will probably be nearby keeping watch, just like I will be. Don't look for them, but don't be surprised by them, either."

"You think they might try another surprise attack?" Byleth asked.

"No, no, I doubt it." Claude waved a hand dismissively. He made a face as he smelled his shirt. He probably should have washed these before wearing them, but then again, the smell might help sell the beggar-act. "You’ve already proven that you can take both of them in single combat, even with a disadvantage. They'll offer you a carrot this time, I'm sure of it."

Byleth nodded. "As long as you're sure."

"Alright, I'm going to go and get into position," Claude said, wrapping a torn and tattered cloak over his shoulders. "You should make sure to cast some shadows through the shutters in case the twins are watching this room. Some amorous noises wouldn't be out of place, either." Claude nearly laughed at Byleth's doubtful expression. "Oh, this will help, too." Claude grabbed a bottle of the cologne he'd had to water down again and again while on the road. He splashed a little in his palm, then patted Byleth's neck, chest and arms. "At least they'll think you came from bed with me."

Byleth caught Claude's hand before he could finish dabbing on the scent. "Or we could simply make the lie a truth."

Claude grinned playfully. "Now, now, sweetheart. This isn't the time for such things." He pulled his hand away gently and winked. "Maybe later though."

He left Byleth in the bedroom and snuck out the way he used to when he was a child: the dark side of the wyvern perch. It was a long climb down, but he felt confident that no one would see him that way. Although, it did make him miss his mount all the more. It was a good thing the twins didn't know Claude's soft spots, because an offer to free his companion from the royal eyries just might have swayed him. Once on the ground, Claude pulled the raggedy hood over his face and hair, affected a limp, and wandered around begging for coins, slowly moving towards the rendezvous point in the note.

The hours passed slowly, with the lively nightmarket lights, sounds and attractions blooming then dying. The moon passed its zenith and soon the only people on the streets were patrolling officers and other beggars. Claude tucked himself into a corner to count the change in the banged-up tin cup he'd found in a trash midden. It wasn't that bad a take, really. At least he'd be able to afford food for himself tomorrow.

While pretending to count coins, Claude used the reflection off a puddle to check the buildings around the square. It was difficult to make out in the darkness, but he finally noted the movement of wind through loose fabric on the corner of a rooftop: most likely a cloak worn by whichever twin was keeping watch over the meeting. Claude hobbled off to find his own vantage point to observe from. A nearby alley proved the best spot, but it was already the den of a few sleeping beggars. With a silent apology to his poorer citizens, the disgraced prince began to rant as if he were mentally unstable, spouting off whatever strange words came to mind. Eventually, the beggars gave up on sleep and wandered off to find another dark alley to sleep in. Claude kept up his rambling mutters, just in case his sibling had noticed him from their rooftop vantage point.

It was still a while later when a lithe figure wrapped in a cloak appeared at the intersection mentioned in the note. Claude tried to look without being obvious about it and tipping off the twin on the rooftop. The figure wore a hood, just like Claude, but then the features of the face weren't how Claude distinguished between the two. After a few minutes of watching how they stepped, how they looked around, and how they fidgeted with their hands, Claude soon decided it was Cori who had come to meet with Byleth. He puttered around his dark alley a little longer, becoming part of the backdrop of the city. As he waited, another beggar even approached Cori, going so far as to rattle a wooden bowl at them. Cori chased them off with a sneer, making Claude even more sure of the twin's identity.

The hour grew so late that Claude began to worry that Byleth had decided not to come at all when he finally arrived. He was dressed in his usual mercenary blacks, sword at his waist, no hood over his head. Not that a disguise would have helped him much, as Byleth was so obviously a foreigner here. Cori caught sight of Byleth at the same time as Claude and lowered their hood, reflected light off the mountains illuminating a small smile on their face. Byleth's expression was set in neutral as he approached, no doubt wondering which twin it was he faced. Claude kicked a bit of garbage at the mouth of his dark alley and shook his fist at the sky, making up a rant on the spot about the unreliable nature of yeast. Cori and Byleth both glanced over at the noise, then seemingly dismissed the raving vagrant, though Byleth seemed to have taken the hint.

"It's you," Byleth said, deadpan. "What is it that you want?"

"I was hoping it might be the same thing you want," Cori said coquettishly, stepping in close to Byleth's chest. "You seemed so...friendly towards me earlier. I thought that without my brother around we might...become better acquainted."

Cori moved to place a hand on Byleth's chest, but he caught it by the wrist and turned Cori away. "I'm afraid I'm not interested."

"You seemed interested when you were letting me clean your feet on the overlook," Cori insisted.

"That wasn't you," Byleth said shortly.

Cori tipped their head, eyes seeming to sparkle in the starlight. "Of course it was me. The darkness must have you confused." A wink and a smile. "I'm Tori."

"You're not," Byleth said shortly. "If this is all, I think we may be finished here."

"Wait!" Cori caught Byleth's sleeve as he turned to leave. "Is it...is it because you're actually in love with Claude? Or does he hold something over you? My twin and I are experts at dissembling Claude's plans, so if he is simply using you, we could--"

"It isn't that," Byleth said in short, clipped tones. "You simply aren't to my taste."

"And Claude is?" Cori pressed. "A warrior such as you deserves so much more than a schemer and a coward. In all honesty, we expect him to betray us and attempt to take the throne for himself. No matter what he tries, my twin and I will win in the end, but the both of us agree: we'd like to have you on our side."

"Which is why you both attacked me today?" Byleth asked archly.

"Tested you," Cori corrected gently. "We needed to see your strength. And we wanted to show you ours. Doesn't it prove something that Claude ran away and left you to fight the both of us on your own? My twin and I are true warriors. And we appreciate skill such as yours."

"I am not impressed by cheap tricks to put an opponent at a disadvantage," Byleth said sternly. "And I assure you that Claude is working in good faith towards the deal you struck earlier. Now if that is all--"

Shadows moved against the night sky: Tori was dropping lightly down from the rooftop perch Claude had noticed earlier. He ducked his head to hide his smile beneath his hood; if Tori was breaking cover, that meant this meeting hadn't gone at all according to the twins' plan.

"Warrior Byleth, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," Tori said, voice low and sultry. Then: "Cori? Why are you here? You know I had hoped to speak to Byleth alone."

In the tense moment that followed, Claude could almost hear the twins' silent telepathy. They hadn't discussed this beforehand and Cori didn't appreciate Tori stepping in so abruptly. But if Tori hadn't made the call, then Byleth might have slipped through their fingers; if Tori could win over Byleth, then it would all be worth it. Except Claude knew they both had to be wondering: Why did it need to be Tori specifically? Weren't they interchangeable enough that this stranger shouldn't be able to tell the two apart? What inherent difference yet remained between them to make them distinguishable?

Claude read this all in the lines of tension on Cori's face, in the tight swallow of Tori's throat. They were confused, but only slightly so--they weren't going to let this hiccup ruin their plan.

"I knew you were running late," Cori said after a beat of silence. "I knew how much this meeting meant to you and I didn't wish for the honorable warrior to be kept waiting."

"I'm here now," Tori said, gentle yet firm. "You can take your leave now."

A muscle ticked over Cori's jaw, but they nodded sharply before pulling their hood up over their head. A slight flexion of the knees, then a powerful leap. Cori landed on a high stone wall and ran lightly before hopping to a rooftop. Claude couldn't follow their path from his vantage point, but he watched Byleth and Tori track Cori until they disappeared from sight. Likely circling around somewhere to keep an eye on things. The twins were never truly alone.

"My apologies for Cori," Tori said demurely. "In truth, we both find you very...skilled. It's a shame to see someone as powerful as you attached to a liar and a schemer like our brother, Claude."

Claude bristled at that; he'd bought this mercenary's loyalty fair and square, thank you very much! Well, not really, but still.

"There is more to Claude than being a liar and a schemer," Byleth replied, evenly. "But I sense that you, too, are more than what you seem."

Oh, good turn of phrase there! Claude nearly cheered from the sidelines. It seemed Byleth really could flirt when he needed to.

"You flatter me, kind warrior." Had Tori been playing the part of a woman, Claude had no doubt they would have toyed with their veil to feign a blush. "Were you not already attached, I would show all that I am to you."

Byleth reached out, fingertips just touching Tori's elbow, not quite a grasp, but a faint, lingering touch. "More's the pity. I am attached. For now."

Tori probably thought they hid the scheming light in their eyes at that, but Claude saw it clear as daylight. They thought they had Byleth, but Claude was already two steps ahead. 

"Perhaps you will not be attached for long," Tori said, pressing ever so lightly into Byleth's touch. "You strike me as a man of honor. Should Claude prove honorless, I imagine you will not remain by his side long."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that, even though Claude has agreed to assist Cori and I to claim the throne, neither of us expect him to uphold his side with honor," Tori explained, stepping in close to speak softly. Claude eased forward in the shadows, straining to hear. "For Claude's many talents, he is no warrior and is therefore unfit to hold the Almyran throne. If you know of our culture, you know this to be true. Yet he will make a grab for power anyway and possibly uproot the very ideals Almyra stands for. My twin and I expect this and stand ready but...as a man of honor yourself, I thought you might be willing to aid us."

"You want me to betray Claude?" Byleth asked carefully.

"Not for nothing," Tori said, pressing both palms against Byleth's chest, head tipped up as if for a kiss. "Once we achieve the throne, my twin and I will be quite generous to those who helped us win it. And if you've never experienced the pleasures of twins before we can be quite...accommodating."

"And if I am not interested in the pair of you?" Byleth asked, his voice a low rumble.

Starlight illuminated Tori's smile, but Claude couldn't help but notice something like hesitation in their eyes. Had anyone ever stripped back their anonymity quite this cleanly before? They had to be feeling uncomfortable that a stranger such as Byleth could tell them apart so easily.

"I can be accommodating all on my own, if that is what you desire," Tori said as if it had been the intent all along.

Byleth moved slightly, the hand on Tori's elbow going to ghost along Tori's waist. "What are you asking me to do?"

"Nothing you wouldn't already be doing," Tori assured him. "Stay with Claude. Watch him. Wait for him to make an honorless move. If he truly means to support our claim, then you'll know him to be a man of honor. But if he moves to betray us..."

"You want me to inform on him?"

"Just do what your code of honor tells you to be right," Tori insisted.

Claude ducked his head to hide his grin. A mercenary was only as honorable as his contractor was. And he already knew from experience that Byleth didn't trade on promises. Hiring a foreign mercenary was truly paying off; the twins hadn't taken an accurate read of Byleth beyond his skills as a fighter.

Tori took a step back, Byleth's hand sliding slowly from their side. "I don't mean to keep you so late. I should let you leave before Claude becomes suspicious."

"When will I see you again?" Byleth asked. His tone was flat, but simply asking the question conveyed a sense of desire. Claude silently approved.

"Not too long, I think," Tori said with an air of mystery. "Claude is welcome to arrange a meeting whenever he has a plan to share with us. But if it takes him a while, I believe Cori and I will invite you both to tea again. And, perhaps, another test of skill."

"I would like that," Byleth confirmed.

"I thought you might." Tori slid back another step, eyes sweeping up Byleth's form like he was sizing up a meal. A sigh lifted their slim shoulders. "Would that I had met you before you met Claude."

"At least we did have the chance to meet."

Claude nearly gagged. Wasn't that a little over the top?

Tori didn't seem to think so. One more coquettish smile, then Tori turned away and leapt up to the top of the same wall Cori had used to exit earlier. Byleth stood and watched for a few moments longer, then, presumably when Tori was out of sight, he scanned the shadows of the alley where Claude hid. Though he would have liked to discuss the next part of the plan with Byleth, Claude couldn't be certain of where Cori was and if they were being watched, he couldn't take the chance and reveal himself. Rather than send a signal to Byleth, Claude melted back into the shadows, taking a far more discreet route through the city than the rooftop trail the twins preferred.

Instead of heading straight back to his mother's house, Claude went to the twins' villa. The city was dark and the villa itself was no exception, but a brief perimeter check proved that lamps were lit in the room the twins had shared as children. Claude crept carefully through the garden of foreign and possibly poisonous plants and climbed the rough outer wall of the villa. The twins' room was on the third floor, but that wasn't nearly as high as the wyvern perch at Claude's own family home. He bypassed the window of the room by a wide margin--it was shaded anyway, so they wouldn't have seen him, but he was still careful--and pulled himself silently up onto the roof. Inching along on his belly, Claude crept to the edge and leaned down as close to the window as he dared, straining to hear the voices within.

"...thought you were doing, stepping in like that! I had it under control!"

"You were going to lose him. At least with me he..."

Claude inched a bit further, hooking his foot around a bit of brickwork to keep his balance.

"...no sense at all!" That was Cori, Claude was sure of it. Frustrated and heated, he imagined Cori to be pacing by the way their voice kept fading in and out. "There's no way he could actually..."

"He's done it twice now." The calm, quiet tone could only be Tori. Perhaps seated on a chair, or on the floor, watching their twin pace the room. "I don't understand it either, but it's a fact we're going to have to take under consideration."

"I don't even care if it's fact or not," Cori snapped. "But why _you_? What's so special about _you_?"

"Watch yourself," Tori said, voice so low that Claude almost missed it. "Whatever you say about me, you say about yourself as well."

"Apparently not," Cori replied. "He didn't just see through the persona switch from yesterday, he knew instantly that it wasn't you waiting for him and I specifically chose a shadowy place to meet up. What, exactly, is giving us away?"

Tori muttered something that Claude couldn't quite catch, but he got the drift by Cori's answering indignant squawk.

"If he's telling us apart, that's not just on me, it's on you, too!" Cori accused. "You must have done something memorable that stuck in his head. What was it?"

"If I knew, I would tell you but I--"

Claude's foot slipped from its hold, his body scraping against the clay roof tiles. He bit his lip to keep from shouting out and scrabbled for a handhold to keep from sliding off the roof. He found a grip and held his breath as the voices in the room below suddenly fell silent.

"Did you hear something?"

"Probably just a cat."

"Should we go look?"

"Nah, probably nothing."

_Shit!_ Whenever the twins were in perfect agreement with each other, it meant trouble. Despite their disinterested words, Claude had no illusions that they would be out looking for lurking intruders in mere moments. Even as he eased back from the window as silently as possible, the lamps in the room were doused, no further words exchanged. Praying to whatever gods there might be, Claude pushed himself to his feet, favoring speed over silence as he ran along the crest of the rooftop, away from the window he had just been listening at. It was late enough that the world felt deathly silent, each booted step on the tiles seemed to reverberate ad infinitum. He headed towards the back of the villa, were a large, sprawling fruit tree with heavy, waxy leaves was planted. If he could get there, he could jump to a branch, drop to the ground and run without fear of injury. Just as he began to make out the leafy boughs against the black of the sky, Claude heard the _snikt_ of a paper shade being drawn back from a window. He stopped short. That had sounded far too close.

One of the twins was slipping out a window nearby.

Claude swore silently as he retraced his steps. He still had a lead on his siblings, but not much of one. He pressed himself into the shadow of an angled window, hunkered down low to hide. He never heard a step on the rooftop, but he saw the stretch-limbed shadow of one of his siblings glide over his hiding place, only steps away. He held his breath, waiting. One shadow met a second shadow and both paused. Neither spoke, but the twins often didn't have to speak to each other to be understood. Likely they were gesturing to each other, telling each other where to search.

If they found him, they'd unite entirely against him, crushing the wedge he'd worked so hard to drive in between them.

Sometimes it comes down to a lucky toss, Claude thought, groping along his belt. He didn't have his bow, of course, but that didn't mean he was completely weaponless. His hand found the slingshot he'd tucked into his waistband earlier, as well as a few small stones hidden in a pocket. Claude closed his eyes as he fitted a stone into the pocket of the slingshot--sight wouldn’t help him now. It didn't have to be a perfect shot, but if he missed by even an inch, there were good odds the twins would spot him.

Leaning back low along the slope of the roof, his back and knees screaming, Claude aimed the slingshot high and just barely tilted. The release took off like a shot, his palm stinging as he caught the recoil to hide the twang of the pull. He heard the rustle and thud of a stone passing through the broad, stiff leaves of the fruit tree he'd been running for earlier and watched the shadows of the twins take off in that direction. Claude wasted no time in sliding to the edge of the roof and slipping over the edge. He caught the roof tiles briefly to arrest his fall, then let go, hoping to find something soft below him. His boots struck first, then slid in something slick, his knees coming down hard enough to sting. When he put his hands down, he realized what he had landed in.

The manure mound used to nourish all the foreign plants from Brigid.

Claude made a face, the smell strong enough to make him retch, but he held his silence. At the very least, the manure was soft and didn't make any noise as he carefully stepped down off the mound. He scraped his hands and boots in the grass, but didn't waste any more time than that: the twins would be on the hunt soon and he needed to keep moving.

At least one thing had gone right: the twins were definitely at odds with each other.

Claude just had to keep them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic updates monthly, so either subscribe or follow me on Twitter to know when the next chapter is dropping. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between the twins are growing tense as Claude attempts to escalate their feud. One final push is all they need to set them off—but does Byleth go too far?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a lot of fun writing a pair of non-binary characters, though I apologize if I was at all confusing with the they/their pronouns. I will learn from this experience and do better next time.

Byleth caught Tori by the wrist and spun them, twisting their wrist up behind their back before driving them into the nearest wall. Tori's breath was knocked out in a single hard blow. They tossed a grin over their shoulder as they teased: "That's quite a grip you have."

Byleth let go and took a step back. "Did you see how it was done?"

"Show me one more time," Tori said, pushing back from the wall, heavy braid sliding off their shoulder. "Maybe slow it down for me."

"Grapplers won't come at you slowly."

"Aw. But I'm just learning." Tori's lashes fluttered coyly. "Just a little slower. I don't mind if it's a little rough."

As Byleth and Tori went over the grappling pin again, Cori dropped onto a pillow beside Claude in the shadow surrounding the sunlit courtyard. They held a wineglass out to Claude, who merely eyed it with suspicion.

"What?" Cori asked, tone devoid of implication. "I can't be nice to my brother?"

"You haven't been nice to me since we used to catch frogs and hide them in your mother's footbath," Claude retorted.

"That must have been Tori," Cori said, still holding out the glass while keeping one for themselves. "I don't like frogs."

"Ah, you're probably right." Claude grinned as he pinched the stem of the Cori's own wineglass rather than accept the one extended to him. "Then you were the one that helped me catch maned spiders to hide in Azida's vanity drawers."

To the casual observer, Cori gave no response, but Claude noted the way their pupils dilated, the pinch of skin around their mouth and the very slight hitch in their breathing. The twins thought they had smoothed away all the differences between each other so they could react as if they were the same person in all circumstances. But Claude knew them like no one else did. And Cori had always feared spiders.

"You don't mind this?" Cori asked, lifting their chin to indicate Byleth and Tori as they practiced grappling holds in the courtyard. "They're getting rather...friendly, wouldn't you say?"

"Why should it bother me?" Claude asked, keeping his tone intentionally light. "I hope to keep Byleth as my paramour for quite some time. It's good that he gets along with my siblings, isn't it?"

Cori only shrugged, then sipped from the glass Claude had refused. Claude set his own glass down on the ground between their two cushions.

"Why? Don't you like Byleth?" Claude asked. "I'm sure he'd be happy to show you a grappling move or two if you asked."

Cori's mouth went tight. They set their glass down, watching as Byleth pinned Tori flat on the ground, talking through the mechanics of the pin while Tori smiled flirtatiously up at him. After too long a pause, Cori said: "Perhaps I will ask."

Ah, we're not quite at the breaking point yet, Claude thought, switching his glass for Cori's. Neither was probably poisoned, but ever since the oil in the footbath, he was being extra cautious. The twins weren't at each other's throats yet, but it seemed only a matter of time before they would be.

Claude's biggest worry was keeping the twins on the hook long enough for them to turn on each other. As children, they had both had short attention spans and would abandon any task that didn't immediately gratify them. So it was a real fear that before he could firmly drive the wedge in between them, the twins might tire of waiting for Claude to come up with a plan that would win them the throne and take matters into their own hands once again. It was a delicate balance between trying to keep their attention without giving away any of his actual plans.

It was the type of challenge Claude lived for.

Byleth helped Tori to their feet, saying something Claude didn't quite hear. He pretended to be absorbed in his drink while Tori sent some sort of signal to Cori. It was little more than eye contact and fiddling with a bracelet, but Cori got the message. They picked up their wineglass (the one Claude had switched) and turned to Claude.

"Do you feel like having an archery contest? We had the servants set up some targets over the east garden."

"Hmm." Claude pretended to think about it. "I suppose it has been a while since I embarrassed you at target shooting."

He expected Cori to make a snarky quip, or at least make a challenge, but instead they only stood up slowly, stretching as they cast a look back at Tori and Byleth. Tori had poured water from a silver carafe into a glass and was offering it up to Byleth, their height differences exaggerated by Tori's unassuming posture.

Wow, Cori really was ready to crack.

"On second thought," Claude said, also standing and stretching. "I think I have to visit the privy before I take you up on that offer. You said the east garden, didn't you?"

"Yes," Cori said, attention still on their twin across the courtyard. "I'll send someone to retrieve your bow from the entryway."

"Sounds good." Claude waved before trotting off for the villa's privy chamber. Like most noble homes, the privy chamber was lined with open windows to allow air to circulate freely. Claude slipped boldly out one of the windows and edged around the villa's trimwork until he reached the twins' bedroom. The window here was locked, of course, but it was an easy matter to slip a dagger between the shutters and flick the lock open. Claude slipped inside with the stealth of an alley cat about to steal its next meal.

The twins had separate sleeping chambers, but shared a common sitting room. In all the time he'd known them, the twins only ever used this room as a dressing chamber, with vanities of makeup and jewelry on opposite walls from each other. Mirrors dominated most of the wall space, ostensibly so the twins could observe each other from all angles in order to mimic each other more closely, but Claude's own movement in each mirror made him twitchy. It was hard to feel stealthy when he could see himself clearly in every reflected surface around the room. It took a minute to figure out which vanity was Tori's, but then only seconds to select the trinket Claude was after: a slim turquoise armband that Tori seemed to favor whenever the twins weren't dressing identically. He wasn't certain of the piece's significance--if any--but had noted Tori wearing it on most occasions they happened to be around Byleth. Claude palmed the trinket, then dashed over to Cori's vanity, wrapping the bangle in a silk scarf and hiding it deep in the lowest drawer. His mission accomplished, Claude slipped back out the window, making sure the shutters locked behind him as he exited.

The past week had been a series of similar hide-and-seek style games against the twins, though this latest was the most daring by far. In order to continue being invited around the twins' villa, Claude kept offering up various schemes that sounded clever at first, but when the twins picked them apart, they were revealed as worthless. The last thing he wanted was to reveal any of his real plans, but he also couldn't afford to have the twins cut him loose yet, so each day was a practice of trying to convince the twins he was sincere while hiding his true hand, all while trying to set them against each other. Claude suspected the only reason the twins let it go on so long was because they were trying to flip Byleth to their side.

Or, at least, Tori was trying to flip Byleth. Claude suspected Cori might have long since tired of that game.

During these frequent meetings, Claude had been playing subtle games on the twins. One day, he'd switched the incense to one he knew infuriated Tori and talked a servant into saying that Cori had decided which stick to burn. Another day, Claude finished all of Cori's favorite pastries set out for tea time, making sure that the very last of the pastries ended up in Tori's hand, making them appear to be the greedy culprit. Even more subtle, Claude managed other tricks that weren't designed to pit the twins against each other, but rather just put them in irritable moods and thus more likely to snap at each other. A broken sandal here, some peeling gilt on a scabbard there, misplaced objects, weevils in the flour, whatever he could do to sow a little chaos. And while it seemed to be working on Cori, Tori seemed almost unmoved; perhaps there was something genuine in their affections for Byleth, or perhaps they believed that Byleth was the key to victory in winning the throne.

Claude certainly believed that to be the case.

Cori was waiting impatiently in the eastern garden when Claude sauntered through the breezy archways. They were toying with the fletching of an arrow, eyes distant until they locked on Claude.

"Took you awhile," Cori accused.

"I drank a lot of wine," Claude replied with an easy shrug. He shielded his eyes from the sun, observing the targets strung from willowy tree branches, swaying in the slight breeze. "You could at least have made this a challenge."

"Then let's make it a race," Cori said, sliding the arrow into a quiver at their hip before testing the draw of their bow. "First to hit the center of the most targets wins."

"Fine by me." Claude picked up his bow--the one his grandfather had sent him from Fodlan--and strung it methodically. His blood carried something strange called a "crest," which supposedly aided him in his archery. Or, at least, that was what his mother told him. She'd also told him not to discuss it too much here in Almyra: crests weren't widely known here and might be seen as too foreign and strange, thus uniting the people against him ever taking the throne. Claude wasn't really sure what good it did to have an edge for his archery: if anything, he would have preferred something that gave him an advantage in hand-to-hand combat so that he might have beaten Tahj out as the official heir.

After checking that the arrows he'd been given weren't flawed in any way, Claude took up a position beside Cori. Cori gave a nod to a nearby servant, who began a countdown. Both Cori and Claude set arrows to their bows, sighting on a distant target. Claude watched Cori from the corner of his eye, carefully taking aim at the same target Cori had their eye on.

The twins' mother highly valued archery, almost as much as she valued beautiful swordsmanship. Thus, the twins had been raised in the Brigid standard of archery and were the only people possibly in the whole of Almyra who could present a challenge to Claude's own archery. In fact, without his crest, Claude believed they would probably be better than him. It had always infuriated the twins' mother to see their children lose time and again to Claude's superior bowmanship.

And this time wasn't to be any different.

As the servant called out the beginning of the contest, Claude's arrow skimmed past Cori's in midair, beating it out for the center of the target. Cori's face turned ugly as they quickly sighted on a new target. Claude drew two arrows at the same time, placing one between his teeth as he fired the first. Before it even landed, he had the second arrow to the string, scarcely taking the time to aim before loosing. Before long, every target in the courtyard quivered with one or more arrows struck through the center. Claude's arrows were fletched in gold, while Cori's arrows were fletched in scarlet, making it easy to see who the winner was.

"It was a good try," Claude said, only slightly patronizing as he bent his bow to remove the string.

"Tch." Cori tossed their bow down, no doubt expecting a servant to put it away for them. Their mother would have whipped them for treating a weapon so disrespectfully, but they'd probably only done it because she wasn't here just now. Like most of the women of the Almyran king's inner harem, she would be sweetly ensconced in the palace, perhaps getting ready to move into retirement with the king when he stepped down and left ruling to his chosen heir. Which, hopefully, would be Claude in the near future.

"Whatever," Cori said airily. "I'm sure it's of some comfort that you can clearly see your targets, even if you can't see what's going on right under your nose."

Claude paused in the middle of retrieving one of his arrows from a target. "I'm sorry?"

"I am, too, to be honest," Cori sniffed. "I would have liked to take your gorgeous paramour out for a ride, too, but for some reason he only seems to want Tori."

Claude chuckled. "I'm not worried about Byleth. There's no way he'd be interested in a skinny, half-dressed runt like Tori. Or you."

"Oh, brother mine." Cori smirked. "I'm not saying you should be worried about it happening. I'm saying you should be worried because it's _already happened."_

Claude held his silence for a beat, rolling an arrow shaft between his fingers. He was fairly certain Cori was lying. Even if they weren't, he and Byleth weren't actually lovers and they certainly weren't exclusive: theirs was a business arrangement, nothing more. But he still had to play his part, or else he'd lose the game against the twins.

"No," Claude said slowly. "I don't believe you."

"There was a night last week when Tori slipped out while I was sleeping." Cori shrugged. "Pretending to sleep, anyway. I followed, naturally. I saw them, Claude. As close as lovers, as thick as thieves." Cori cast a glance around, no doubt checking for servants before slinking closer to Claude and lowering their voice. "We should betray them before they betray us."

Claude held his breath a moment, then backed away, shaking his head. "No. I'm not falling for it, Cori. There's no way you make a deal behind Tori's back. And I trust Byleth. Way more than I trust you."

"Suit yourself," Cori said with a shrug. "But why do you think they didn't follow us out here? You know how much Tori likes to show off at archery."

"Maybe because you didn't invite them," Claude shot back. This act was a tightrope: Claude had to act just the right amount of concerned, because if he blew off Cori's accusations entirely, they would realize that Claude and Byleth weren't actually lovers at all. The same was true if he overreacted. As princes and princesses raised to expect a harem, neither Claude nor any of his siblings had ever had a singular romantic connection before and while petty jealousies erupted just as they would between normal siblings, the concept of romantic love was just about as foreign as Claude's crest. He had to act more like a spoiled child than a tearful lover--and he had to hope Byleth would understand.

His unstrung bow still in his hand, Claude padded back to the courtyard where Tori and Byleth were practicing grappling, Cori close on his heels. Neither of them made a single sound as they stepped, bare feet padding silently over thick rugs. Even with his eyes forward, Claude could see that Cori wore a tiny smirk as they ghosted along behind him. Honestly, Claude wasn't at all certain what game Cori was playing now: outing their own twin was never a strategy Claude had considered.

Claude paused in the shadows of the hallway, keeping clear of the pools of light between the archways. Cori slunk into the shadow of a pillar, facing into the hall but with an ear tilted to the courtyard. At first glance, the courtyard appeared empty. It was only by searching the shady corners that Claude finally saw Byleth and Tori in a highly compromising position on a bench half-hidden beneath a weeping willow. Claude made sure Cori saw everything plain on his face: shock, denial, fear, and finally anger. He set his expression to one of cool rage before stepping abruptly into the courtyard. Tori and Byleth were slow to break apart, almost as if they were unconcerned of being caught. That made sense for Byleth: it wasn't as if Claude posed any sort of threat to him. But Tori, on the other hand, if Claude could get the first hit--and if Cori didn't interfere--there was a good chance Claude could win that fight.

"What are you two up to?" Claude asked, smiling tightly. "Doesn't look like grappling practice."

"We had to stop." Tori cast a smile upon Byleth. "Your partner caught me with a straight to the jaw."

"You were being reckless," Byleth replied. "You're lucky it isn't broken."

Now that Claude was looking for it, he could see raised, reddened skin on Tori's face, just below the ear. It looked bad enough to bruise, but if Tori's jaw wasn't broken, then Byleth must have pulled his punch.

"Huh. I'd say it looks bad, but your face always looks that way," Claude said with a smirk. He jerked his head at Byleth. "Let's head out. I'm done here."

"So soon?" Tori asked, confused, one hand still pressed against their jaw. "You were both going to stay for dinner. We hired performing acrobats for a show on the garden terrace."

"I hope you and Cori enjoy them," Claude said off-handedly. "But I'm afraid Byleth has had one too many _late nights,_ wouldn't you say?"

Byleth could have no idea what Claude was talking about, but he silently crossed the courtyard to stand at Claude's side anyway. Tori, however, searched the shadows until they found their twin, glaring daggers as they realized what must have happened.

"C’mon, Byleth. We'll get dinner on the way home." Claude made sure to keep his tone and his grip on his bow tight, trying to exude thinly veiled rage at least until they left the villa. It was only difficult because all he really wanted to do was laugh; the twins were so close to all-out war with each other, it was actually highly entertaining.

"What was all that about?" Byleth asked once they were out on the busy city streets.

"Cori tried to make a deal with me to cut out you and Tori." Claude couldn't help the little smile that wormed its way onto his face. "They ratted out that late night meeting between you and Tori last week. They're just about to break, I can sense it."

"About time," Byleth replied, sounding bored. "I was getting worried you might starve before you ever make it back to the palace."

Claude laughed even though the joke held too much truth to really be funny. He'd taken to stealing food from the twins' tea parties, saving whatever he could to eat later. It really was only thanks to the twins that he hadn't starved yet. If this dragged on much longer, he might actually feel compelled to go begging at night for spare coins. With all his meetings with the twins up until now, it hadn't been a problem, but now that Cori had exposed Byleth's supposed "faithlessness," Claude couldn't exactly lean on their hospitality anymore. Continuing to slow-play the twins wasn't going to work--they had to speed up the timeline.

"We're going to have to start making some bolder moves," Claude said, rubbing his chin as he considered. "You should sneak out sometime and try to meet with Tori alone. Cori's already at the breaking point, we just need them to snap."

"How will I know which one to approach?" Byleth asked. "Will you be sneaking out in disguise again?"

Claude frowned, thinking fast. It was a fair point: Byleth had actually gotten pretty good in telling the twins apart when they were together, but separately he could still be confused. The twins had mostly stopped with their intentional misdirects, but that didn't mean they wouldn't try to take advantage of Byleth all alone.

"I have an idea." Claude unlocked the door of his mother's villa, holding it open for Byleth to step past him. He locked the door, setting his bow down just inside the entryway. "Tomorrow, I'll run interference with Cori by pretending I'm interested in the double-cross they suggested. After I lure Cori out, you can approach Tori." Claude drummed his fingers against his folded arm, considering different possible scenarios. "It's still not enough, though. We need some kind of final straw that makes one of them--preferably Cori--snap hard enough to actually confront the other."

"I thought you said you had something in mind while we were at the villa today?" Byleth asked.

"I did. I switched some jewelry around in their room." Claude bit his thumbnail. "It'll edge them both closer, but I don't think it's enough to break them. And now, thanks to Cori, I can't exactly invite myself over anymore."

Byleth dropped heavily onto a padded couch, setting his sword over his knees. He rubbed it thoughtfully with a cloth for a few minutes before looking up. "Why don't you let me bait the final trap?"

Claude looked up slowly, meeting those merciless eyes across the room. "You have a plan?"

Byleth shrugged. "Tori shared a few things they probably shouldn't have. I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"Better if you don't know." Byleth set his sword aside, throwing one arm over the low back of the couch. "That way, you won't have to pretend to be surprised."

Claude chuckled. "Are you doubting my acting skills?"

"Doubting your ability to lie to your siblings," Byleth said with an honest shrug. "They know you just as well as you know them."

"It's a fair point," Claude allowed. "You should try to do whatever it is you're going to do while I'm distracting Cori. At least then I'll have an alibi."

Byleth nodded. "When?"

Claude stroked the hair on his chin. "I wish it could be tonight, but that'll be too soon. Besides, I'd bet my bow that the twins are arguing amongst themselves right now, what with Cori going behind Tori's back to tip me off to your alleged affair. Tomorrow, though. Maybe in the afternoon."

"Are you going to last that long?" Byleth asked, a single brow arched.

Claude pulled out a small bundle of stolen pastries wrapped in a handkerchief. "Your concern for my well-being is overwhelming," he said dryly, knowing Byleth would most likely head out to get himself a real meal. He missed being able to stroll through the market grabbing whatever he wanted, but if he could see this plan through to the end, it would all be worth it. "Hey, for this plan of yours: Do you need anything from me? A location? A weapon? Information?"

"Payment." Byleth’s smirk was lewd and lazy, his eyes ranging along Claude’s form as if seeing beneath his clothes. "But I’ll take it after, once this part of the job is finished."

“Sounds good to me.” Claude emptied a few more of his pockets, revealing stashes of stolen nuts and berries, even a flask he’d lifted off of Tori earlier. “After I pay off what I owe you for the twins, we can start talking about payments for taking down Azida.”

Byleth shifted his weight forward, scooping up his sword as he rose to his feet. He caught Claude’s chin in his hand, blue eyes glittering like ice as he held him. “I look forward to it.”

Claude smirked. “So next time will be in the palace, yeah?”

“If you can get us there.”

Claude chuckled. “Trust me. I will.”

Byleth nodded once before releasing Claude’s chin. “If I didn’t trust you, I would have left you to face your own consequences long ago.”

Claude didn’t show it outwardly, but he felt a shiver run through him as Byleth stepped past.

“I’m going out for dinner.”

“Enjoy!” Claude called after him, trying not to be envious of cooked meat and fresh wine. “I’d go with you, but I’m going to be pressed just to finish what I have here.”

Byleth actually chuckled, once, before leaving the villa.

~*~^~*~

Sweating in the midday heat, the sun beating down on his shoulders, Claude perched on a rooftop that looked down into one of the twins' villa's many gardens. He held his bow strung in one hand, a gold-fletched arrow in the other. He'd seen movement within the villa through the windows, but from his vantage point, he couldn't make out whether he was seeing servants or the twins. He had to be sure of his target, or else he'd risk uniting the twins against him, and then the whole plan would be in shambles.

The twins usually ran sword drills outside every day, most often together, but with the mounting tension between them, Claude had to hope they would exercise separately today. He also hoped they would exercise soon--he was already hungry and with the amount he was sweating, he would begin growing dizzy before long. He had a flask of water on his belt, but he didn't want to risk losing his opportunity, whenever the moment arrived.

Claude and Byleth had left their villa at around the same time, Byleth going off to do whatever he thought would set the twins to fighting like mongrel curs over a single bone while Claude went to stalk his siblings. Once he lured Cori out of the villa, Claude would leave a signal for Byleth, letting him know it was safe to approach Tori. But first, Claude had to find Cori.

Even Claude's remarkable patience was wearing thin by the time one of the twins stepped out into the courtyard he was watching. He set his arrow to the string, but didn't draw just yet. He squinted past the sweat dripping into his eyes to study his sibling's movement. It wasn't easy from a distance, but luckily neither twin cared much for covering up their forms with cloaks or capes. It only took a few steady steps for Claude to be certain of the twin's identity: Tori tended to walk with a slight sashay to every step, regardless of whether anyone was around to see it or not. Cori moved with purposeful intent, unless they were matching their movements to Tori. Claude drew back his arm, took careful aim, then let the arrow fly. It sailed over the villa's walls and thudded into a woody flowering bush in the garden, just past Cori's shoulder. Cori froze, one hand on their sword hilt as they sank into a defensive crouch, then, slowly, they turned, looking in the direction the arrow had come from. Claude lifted a hand in greeting. Cori nodded solemnly, then turned and disappeared back inside the villa. Claude slung his bow over his shoulder and climbed down off the rooftop.

He waited a little way down the road from the villa, ostensibly so Tori wouldn't catch sight of him, but this was also the spot where Byleth would look for his signal. Claude crushed a bit of gold fletching in his hand and dropped it amid the cultivated greenery that marked the beginning of the royal villa's property. With the signal dropped, Claude slouched against a spindly tree, idly picking at his nails with an arrowhead while he waited for Cori to arrive. 

Rather than come walking down the path like any normal person, Cori dropped down from the villa's retaining wall, landing in a crouch in front of Claude, one hand on their sword, eyes wary. Claude met their gaze evenly.

"Byleth slipped out last night," Claude said, sans inflection. "Tell me honestly: was he with Tori?"

"I couldn't say," Cori replied, rising slowly from their crouch. "Tori stormed out last night and didn't return until it was nearly dawn."

"You didn't follow?" Claude asked skeptically.

"Why would I follow?" Cori scoffed. "Tori accused me of stealing an extremely gaudy trinket even though I never touched the ugly thing."

"So you two are fighting?" Claude asked, probing gently.

"We didn't part on the best of terms last night," Cori replied carefully. "Tori's been...sensitive lately. Unfocused."

"Because of Byleth?" Claude asked.

"Maybe." Cori shrugged. "We could cut them both loose. Take the throne for ourselves. What do you say, brother?"

"I still don't trust you," Claude said clearly. "And you and I can't share the throne, not the way you and Tori could, anyway."

"That's true." Cori released their sword to cross their arms over their chest, shifting their weight onto one leg. "How about this instead: you and I agree to a truce between us and we remove the other obstacles from our way. Tahj. Azida. Tori." Cori spat their twin’s name with venom. "And then it's just a battle to the finish between you and I."

"Huh." It actually wasn't a bad offer, really. At least, it wouldn't be if Claude could trust it. But even if Cori and Tori were on the "outs" right now, it didn't mean they would remain that way. And Cori would always feel stronger with Tori at their side. No matter how tempting it sounded, Claude knew it wasn't an offer that would last once the twins made up. "I'll be honest: I'm tempted." Claude put some hesitation into his face. "But I guess I'm still hoping Byleth has a reason for sneaking out last night. One that has nothing to do with Tori, I mean."

"Heh. Yeah, I get that." Cori rolled their shoulders, eyes distant. "I don't understand him. That paramour of yours. What's so special about Tori anyway?"

Claude snorted. "You sound jealous."

"Not jealous. Merely...confused." Cori shook their head, as if to clear it. "What about you? Any new strategies for taking the throne since yesterday?"

"Maybe one or two." Claude shrugged. "I have to rework them all if it's just going to be you and me."

Cori smirked. "You're hoping I'll take you out for something to eat."

Claude grinned broadly. "Alas, you caught me out. How about it? Treat me to some food and I'll share what I've come up with."

Cori laughed. "Alright. I know a place that'll let you eat your fill. Starving outcast."

"Thanks, you second-rate doppelganger."

Cori elbowed Claude in the ribs and Claude slung an arm over Cori's shoulders. It was flinchingly nostalgic to act like family again after so many years of seeing each other as little more than rivals. Perhaps five years ago, their father had told all of them that he would not be choosing an heir, but instead would be hosting a trial by combat in order to select the successor. Ever since, the siblings had distanced themselves from each other, each striving to one-up the others and win the crown for themselves. It almost made Claude hate that he was really only leading Cori on; it would have been nice to be a brother once again.

Despite the heat, the center of town was bustling with merchants, shoppers, beggars and patrolling soldiers. Claude let Cori take the lead and found himself on a second-level eatery shaded with colorful awnings. The fare was primarily rice cooked in spices and flavored with roasted vegetables, but the neat thing was that servers came by and offered different selections of meat to add to the rice bowl. It was definitely new since the last time Claude had the royal treasury at his disposal. He quickly put down two bowls of rice and lingered over the remains in his second bowl, inviting the servers to keep coming by with skewers of meat. Cori teased lightly after only finishing half a bowl of rice and refusing all but the most delicately cooked meats.

"Mm!" Claude closed his eyes, savoring the bite he just took. "Did you try the braised tortoise? So good!"

"I believe it's true what they say: hunger makes the best spice." Cori smirked. "I have to say, Claude, I'm a bit underwhelmed by your strategies so far."

"We just reduced our team's headcount by half," Claude reminded them. "Of course it's going to take me a while to come up with something actually good. And, you know, I'm not entirely certain you won't steal my ideas and go running back to Tori after a half-assed apology."

Cori snorted. "I suppose that's fair." They linked their fingers and stretched, still looking lithe and lean as a panther even for just having eaten. "How do you feel about finding an open dueling ground? I could use the exercise."

"So soon after eating?" Claude asked, scraping up the remnants of his rice. "How do you feel about me throwing up on you in order to win?"

"Tch." Cori pushed back from the table, leaning into a patch of sunlight, darkly tanned skin gleaming like polished cedar. "If you're going to be taking Tori's place, you'll need to keep up with me, Claude."

Claude held up a finger in excuse as he drained his teacup, sighing in satisfaction when he'd finished. "It'll be different once I have my own income from the palace again."

"And do you have a plan for that?" Cori set a stack of coins down on the table, leading the way down from the elevated dining pavilion. Claude had to trot after them to follow.

"I have something in mind," Claude admitted. He looked around, then lowered his voice, whispering conspiratorially. "If a certain lover really is stepping out on me, I shouldn't think it too difficult to pin an assassination plot on the foreigner from Fodlan."

"My my, Claude." Cori feigned shock, placing a hand over their breast. "You truly are ruthless, aren't you?"

Claude silently begged forgiveness from Byleth as he smirked at Cori, accepting the praise. He actually doubted such a ploy would even work, but it sounded good and that was all he really needed to win over Cori. For now.

"What should we do?" Cori mused. They made a face as a merchant's cart on wheels kicked up a cloud of road dust. "You don't want to spar and I don't want to see Tori's stupid face for a few hours."

"Don't look at me to entertain you," Claude said, outwardly laughing while he cursed himself internally. If only Byleth had given a hint of his plans! Then Claude would know how to steer Cori towards whatever machination he'd organized earlier. He had to hope it was something obvious enough that Cori would find it, regardless of where they went. "I haven't visited this city in years and you know I'm flat broke right now."

"Hm, yes." Cori tapped a painted fingernail against their lips. "Do you know what? All this talk of Tori getting with your lover is giving me an itch. And I know just the place to get it scratched." By Cori's wink, Claude guessed what their next destination was even before they arrived.

"The Enchanters." Claude grinned at the men and women working the entrance of the city's most expensive brothel. One tried to lure him in with a gauzy scarf, but Claude laughingly disentangled himself from it. "I do remember this place. It feels like forever ago when we all visited together, you, me and Tori."

"I have a favorite here, a milk-skinned girl from the snow-kingdom in Fodlan." Cori smirked. "She takes multiple customers, if you'd like to join me."

"Ah!" Claude fought back his blush. While he had come here with the twins before, they'd all gone to separate rooms. Sharing partners wasn't an intimacy he was ready for just yet. "Sorry, but I'll have to decline. After all, there's still a chance that Byleth isn't cheating on me and I'd rather not be the one to break faith first."

Cori frowned. "Since when is visiting a brothel cheating? Aren't you aiming to be king one day? Your foreigner understands the concept of a harem, doesn't he?"

"All the same," Claude insisted. "I feel like, ah, it's something we should discuss first."

"Fine. Suit yourself." Cori flipped Claude a coin. "You can wait for me in the lounge. That'll get you some wine and company. Maybe afterwards, your meal will have settled and we can actually go spar."

"I suppose a little friendly company can't hurt." Claude followed Cori inside, hiding his nerves about not knowing Byleth's plan. He should have at least arranged some kind of signal or _something_ just to guide Cori to the right place. He didn't even listen as Cori requested their favorite girl. The house mistress bid them wait in the lounge until their girl was ready for them. Cori led Claude through a gauze-draped archway and into a decadent room full of velvet pillows, hazy incense and barely-clad sex-workers, all eyeing them with inviting smiles.

"You should make yourself comfortable," Cori insisted, talking to Claude while trailing fingertips over an exposed abdomen. "My girl and I don't finish quickly."

"I don't see that being a problem." Claude laughed as someone caught his arm, pressing against him as they gave him a sultry smile. "It does seem rather comfortable here."

Maybe once Cori goes up to the room, I can slip out and track down Byleth, Claude thought, making a rapid-fire plan. If I stay out of sight from Tori, maybe he can give me a hint as to where Cori is supposed to find this--

A scream rent asunder the atmosphere of cheerful, languid frivolity--not the type of scream one would expect to hear in a brothel. This was a scream of pure terror, horror and surprise. The scream rang out a second time, closer, as if someone was running from something. Claude shrugged his bow off his shoulder as Cori ripped their sword from its scabbard, both bursting back through the cloth-draped archway towards the sounds of the screams. They arrived just in time to see a young woman throw herself at the house mistress, makeup streaking her face and trembling from head to toe. She shook so hard that her words were insensible. Her knees gave out as she clutched the house mistress's sleeves, dragging the woman down with her as she sobbed plaintively. Claude and Cori exchanged a look, then approached slowly, trying to listen to the crying girl's babble.

"What is it, you fool?" the house mistress asked, shooting an apologetic smile over at Claude and Cori. "You are upsetting the guests!"

She only shook harder, hands gripping her own hair in fists as she continued to babble.

Cori's face suddenly went pale. "Serralia? What did you say about Serralia?"

"Who's that?" Claude asked, standing back as Cori charged forward. After all, archers worked best from a distance.

"I'm sure it's nothing," the house mistress assured them with a tight smile. "Surely Serralia is getting herself ready for their highness. I'll send someone else to check since this fool girl seems to have lost her head." She tried to get the young woman to stand, but neither threats of violence nor docked pay could make her move. Before the house mistress could come up with another threat, heavy footsteps sounded in the hall leading back to the rooms. Claude put his back to the wall: these were obviously the house guards, armed with whips and short swords, in case any of the patrons inflicted unpaid-for harm on the workers.

"Mistress!" One of the guards leaned low, whispering quickly into the woman's ear. Her eyes slowly went wide in disbelief, her jaw falling open. Before she could say a word, Cori swore and jumped the counter, dodging the guards as they ran through the back halls.

"Ah, pardon us," Claude called, vaulting the counter behind Cori. "I promise we won't take any services we can't pay for. Sorry!"

Only one guard made a half-hearted attempt to grab Claude as he sidled past, pelting after Cori. Really, they shouldn't have been allowed in the back-area of the brothel with weapons, but whatever had happened had everyone in a state of panic and confusion. Guests and workers were crowding the doorways of their rooms, asking each other what happened. Cori ignored them all, rounding a corner hard enough to bounce off the far wall before continuing on, Claude close on their heels. Cori seemed to know these halls fairly intimately, racing past closed doors and up stairways with a fleet-footedness that Claude could never hope to match. He was barely able to keep up, and in some places, he only knew which way Cori went by the stares that followed them.

Cori didn’t slow until they finally drew near their destination, steps slow and hesitant, as if delaying the moment of discovery. Claude caught up panting heavily. He could see an open door at the end of the hallway and a few undressed workers backing away from it in horror, their hands clasped over their mouths. Cori pushed between them, striding in through the door, scimitar held low in a white-knuckled grasp. Claude edged forward, staying behind Cori and peering over their shoulder.

The girl was just as fair-skinned as Cori had said she was, though Claude imagined the lack of blood helped with that: her throat had been cut with a single long slash. She was nude but for her own blood, spread-eagle across the bed, pale eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. Beyond her, the door to a balcony stood open, filmy curtains fluttering in the light breeze. Cori stood frozen just past the doorway, some emotion Claude couldn't identify glittering in their eyes, then they stalked into the room, pulling aside drapes and wall hangings, as if looking for something. Claude approached the girl on the bed cautiously. He'd led troops into battle, he'd killed his fair share of warriors, death was not foreign to him. Yet there was something deeply unsettling about a non-battlefield death--especially when it was someone who had likely never served a day of combat in her life.

Claude lightly touched the girl's wrist, shivering at the chill of her skin. He hadn't held much hope for a pulse--not with that much blood--yet he tried anyway. If the girl had even a shred of life within her, there was a chance a priest could be called to heal her. Surely the cost of such a spell was nothing to Cori. Unsurprisingly, Claude found no pulse: the girl was long gone.

A hand twisted in Claude's shirt, yanking him away from the bed and bringing him nose to nose with a pair of red-rimmed eyes.

"Was this you?" Cori hissed, body trembling with barely contained rage. "Did you do this? As part of some scheme?"

"No way! Cori, listen--" Claude heard Byleth's voice half whispering in the back of his mind: _Tori shared a few things they probably shouldn't have._ "I had no idea! How could I know about your girl here? You know I don't have the money to get into a place like this, never mind afford someone who services royalty! I've haven't been here since we were kids--you can ask anyone who works here!"

"The windows are open," Cori hissed, gesturing with their sword. "And I remember you have a penchant for rooftops."

"I--Cori, you can't think I did this!" Claude protested weakly. "I've been with you most of the day. She couldn't have been dead that long or else they would have found her before now. What purpose would it serve, anyway? Killing a brothel worker doesn't put either of us on the throne!"

Cori held Claude's shirt a moment longer, then shoved him roughly away. They went to the side of the bed, gently touching the dead girl's hand, curling her fingers into her palm. Claude backed away, trying to give them some room to process. He had no illusions about what had happened here: a silent entrance, a swift kill, and an immediate retreat.

This was Byleth's work.

But Cori could never know that.

Cori's hand trembled over the dead girl's. "I was going to buy out her contract. After we started our harem at the palace."

Claude nodded, too afraid to speak aloud. A prostitute could never be a royal spouse, but plenty of harem-mates came from brothels; it wouldn't have been strange at all for Cori to buy this one once their claim to the throne was secured. If Cori had been considering buying out a contract, then this attack was deeply personal. It was a bold move and Claude could respect it, but at the same time he wished Byleth had talked to him about it. Maybe they hadn't needed a move quite this powerful.

"I didn't tell anyone that," Cori said, voice husky. "I never..." They blinked, looking up, but with an unfocused gaze. They stared out the window, thought crystallizing behind red-veined eyes. "Tori."

"That's a bit of a leap, isn't it?" Claude cautioned, playing his role as a bystander to the hilt. "I'm sure she had other clients. This might have had nothing to do with you. Did Tori have any reason to think you'd be coming here today?"

"Tori... Torinne knows my moods, knows where I go when I pissed off." Cori's eyes narrowed dangerously. Claude shivered: it was a dark day indeed when the twins addressed each other by their full names. "But they couldn’t know that I… No, I sent that with a trusted confidant.”

Sent what? Claude silently wondered. What do you have on your twin as blackmail, dear Cori?

But Cori had already moved on from that point, eyes searching for an explanation. “Was this… Could this be because of that stupid trinket?"

Cori’s eyes went hard a moment before they spun and slammed their fist into one of the bedposts, cracking it down the center. Claude glanced furtively at the doorway, which was no longer crowded by grieving housemates, but instead by armed guards. At the least they seemed understanding of the fact that Cori was grieving and that neither Cori nor Claude had committed the murder, but all the same, they probably wanted to ask them to leave.

"Cori," Claude said, tone low like he was approaching a prey animal. "We can't do anything for her now. We can ask Dad to launch an investigation, but--"

"I don't need an investigation," Cori spat out between gritted teeth. "I know exactly who did this. Over a gaudy, cheap trinket, that worthless..." As Cori hissed curses from Brigid, they yanked their purse off their belt and set it on the edge of the bed. A beat of silence, then Cori met the eyes of each of the guards in the doorway. "For her final rights. See that the house mistress gets this."

A line of staggered bows and a chorus of "Yes, Highness," then Cori spun away, stalking towards the window. Their scimitar glimmered as they stepped out onto the balcony.

"Where is that traitorous snake?" Cori asked as Claude followed them out onto the balcony. "Not at home still, no... Not unless your lover is there, too."

"I don't know where Byleth is," Claude said truthfully. "When I left the villa, he was still there."

"I'll find them," Cori swore, eyes scanning the city as if searching for a trail. "I'll find both of them."

The movement was as sudden as it was graceful: Cori leapt up onto the railing around the balcony, then leapt off in a single, fluid motion. A midair flip with sword held far out to the side and a perfect landing on a rooftop across the street. Claude gauged the distance with his eyes and shook his head.

"Not me," he muttered, climbing over the railing all the same. The drop down to street level wasn't all that far, and a merchant cart below full of rugs softened even that. Claude raced along the busy streets, barreling unapologetically through people as he kept his eyes up, just barely keeping up with Cori as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

Byleth, what have you done? Claude wondered, cutting in front of a soldier's horse, making it startle and rear. He dashed under its striking hooves to keep up with Cori. We could have continued to slow-play this if we had to. There was a way to do this without hurting anyone...

Claude flinched as he burst out of the shadows of the buildings lining the busy streets and into the sunlit wide-open square where he and Byleth had first seen the twins perform. While merchants ringed the edges of the square, the center was given over to a troupe of traveling musicians playing a loud and lively tune. One troupe dancer stood on the rim of the center fountain, modeling the dance as they barked out the names of the steps. Couples paired off in the central square, laughing with each other as they attempted to keep up with the caller. As Claude blinked sunspots from his eyes, he recognized two figures at the outer edge of the dancers. He started to call a warning, but then Cori leapt down from the nearest rooftop, the tip of their sword scraping against the worn-smooth courtyard stones.

Tori and Byleth turned towards the sound instinctively, though it was largely drowned out by the music near the fountain. Unlike Cori's clothing, which could have passed for either male or female, Tori was dressed in a womanly fashion, including a demure veil across their face, though the clothing seemed to accentuate the figure underneath rather than hide it. And unlike most women in the market, Tori had their sword belted at their waist, a scimitar identical to Cori's in every way, down to the tiniest, most intricate detail. In stark contrast, Byleth was dressed in his usual mercenary blacks. When Tori startled and spun, Byleth moved slowly and deliberately, hand resting on his sword as his icy eyes tracked the sound of Cori's sword on the stones.

"Too far, Torinne," Cori growled, rising from their landing crouch, sword held out wide. "Neither of us is above murder to get what we want, but this time you took it too far."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Corinne." Tori flicked their eyes over to Claude, who backpedaled a step, holding up his hands to show they were empty. "If you're unsatisfied with something I've done, you should tell me in private." Despite the calm-sounding words, Tori drew the sword on their hip.

"Yes, private," Cori sneered. "Where you accuse me of theft and tell me _I'm_ the one who's letting my emotions run away with me?"

"Your emotions _are_ running away with you," Tori retorted, eyes shifting over their veil. The argument had drawn the attention of the closest citizens. The dancers had all moved away, the barker on the fountain was silent and wide-eyed. The music continued to play, but it seemed muted somehow. Softer and removed, as if the real performance belonged to the royal twins.

Claude met Byleth's eyes over the distance, trying to signal that they should both remove themselves from the situation before they got dragged into--

"Is this your doing, Claude?" Tori asked, balancing lightly in a dancer's pose, sword held out in a mirror of Cori's. "One of your little schemes, perhaps?"

Claude held his hands up in surrender. "I--"

"Claude was with me all day," Cori announced, cutting over Claude's denial. "And you're the only one who knew--" Cori's voice cracked. Standing as close as he was, Claude could see a sparkle of tears in the corners of their eyes. "I know it was you, Torinne!"

"Fine! So what if it was me?" Tori shouted back, startling Claude for real this time. Was it possible that Tori actually had murdered Cori's girl instead of Byleth? "You've been distracted and petty lately! You needed something to get your head back in the game, Corinne!"

Cori's laugh was high and maniacal. " _I'm_ the one who's been distracted? What about you and your newest conquest, huh? Don't think I don't know about the contract proposal you had the scribes draw up for you!"

Oof, _that_ was a surprise! Claude wondered briefly if Byleth had known, then dismissed the idea. A contract proposal could only mean one thing: Tori was planning on offering Byleth a position in the high harem. Pretty presumptuous, really, considering neither twin had won the throne yet. That must have been what Cori was referring to earlier—revealing such a document to their father or any of their siblings would certainly put Tori out of favor for the throne.

Claude scoffed at the idea of offering such a position to Byleth. He couldn’t believe the mercenary would ever willingly agree to be contracted and closeted, the way a member of the high-harem would be. No, if Byleth had known about this, he surely would have mentioned it before now.

Tori confirmed this fact by glancing back at Byleth, nerves evident in the tightness of their eyes. Yet before they could speak a word, Cori raced across the courtyard, scimitar rolling in a loose grip before swinging up for a downward strike. Tori got their blade up in time to block, eyes hard as they glared over their veil.

"Stay out of this," Claude heard Tori growl to Byleth. "This is between the two of us."

"As you say," Byleth said, releasing the hilt of his sword and backing away. Tori turned Cori's blade away and surged forward with a dance-like step, sweeping their sword through a broad swing. Cori bent over backwards, walking over on their hands in order to spring back into the fight once Tori's blade was clear. The clang of metal on metal finally drowned out the musicians as the twins began to fight in earnest. Civilians fled the town center, seeking safer vantage points along the edges or in the mouths of alleyways. The musicians scrambled to gather up their instruments before fleeing. Enterprising merchants began selling gourds of water and wine to the onlookers and a furtive, whispered trade abruptly began taking bets on which twin would win the fight. Claude actually wondered if most of the bystanders thought this was simply another one of the twins' performances rather than an actual brawl.

Claude was under no such illusion. He'd witnessed the twins' play-fights before and he'd seen them fight for real, and while at first it might be difficult to tell the two apart, the one key factor to look for wasn't holding back against each other--the twins knew each other too well to hold back, even in tournaments--but rather a general lack of awareness of their surroundings. During the tournament to determine the heir, neither twin had held back, but they had played to the audience more than they'd been trying to hurt each other. Now, they hardly seemed aware of the onlookers ringing the city center, nor even of Byleth sidling around their fight to take up a position beside Claude. 

Cori's sword crashed into the edge of the fountain, sending up scattered stone chips as they ripped the blade free. Tori ripped the veil free of their face, revealing a snarl as they lunged for an attack. Both wore sheer sarongs, gladiator sandals and gold bangles on their wrists and ankles, making the fight look flashier than it was brutal, but Claude noted the sheen of sweat on their bronzed skin, the whiplike motions of their braids and the careful, precise placement of their feet. If either one gained an advantage, the other might not walk away from this.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Claude asked, voice low as he watched the twins trade blows.

Byleth nodded almost imperceptibly, eyes also glued to the fight.

"Then...what did Tori just confess to?"

"Thanks to a stolen bangle," Byleth paused, shooting a look over at Claude, "Tori sought their own vengeance. Something about a letter to the finance council about some misappropriated funds during tax collection."

Claude hissed, wincing in sympathy for Cori. Not only was their favorite girl dead, but they'd likely have to face an inquiry by the royal accountant as well. That was, if they survived the fight with Tori.

"What are--" Byleth's eyes narrowed at a strange motion by Cori.

Claude swore and he shrugged the bow off his shoulder, putting an arrow to the string even as he sighted. "Look out!"

Cori reached back beneath the thin crop top that looked barely capable of hiding a playing card, never mind the bladed hatchet they withdrew. As they drove Tori sideways with a complex sword strike, Cori flipped their arm back then hurled the hatchet with their full strength behind it. Tori managed to deflect it with their hilt before darting into the opening Cori had left them, but the hatchet was still spinning end over end--and heading straight into the crowd.

Claude narrowed his eyes, released a breath, then coolly calculated the hatchet's trajectory. He fired a single arrow, but set a second to the string, just in case. His arrow nailed the hatchet's broad face dead-on, knocking it down to the walking stones, where it clattered harmlessly. Claude's arrow shattered on impact, a few wooden splinters showering the on-lookers, but that was a far cry better than a hatchet taking someone in the face.

"Keep your eyes open," Claude instructed Byleth. "If I'm right, this fight is about to get real messy. I'd rather not get anyone else involved in this family feud."

"Tori isn't armed with anything besides the scimitar," Byleth said, one hand hooked over his hilt. "We were dancing earlier. I would have noticed."

Claude shook his head. "No, the twins don't leave the house without back-up weapons. In that outfit, I'd expect Tori to have--"

He didn't even finish speaking before Tori reached beneath their sarong and pulled out a coiled whip. They flourished it once, barbed tip snapping the air cruelly before they settled into a dual-wielding stance, scimitar in their right hand, whip in the left. Cori sneered and swiftly stepped out of the whip's range.

"Huh." Byleth's tone was flat, but Claude assumed from his slight nod that he was impressed. "I didn't notice that."

"Some of their jewelry can be used as weapons, too," Claude said, holding his bow down, and arrow pointed toward the ground. "Some of their rings turn into punching daggers, the chain necklaces and bracelets can turn into restraints. One of them has a bangle that contains garrote wire."

Byleth cast a cool look over at Claude. "You're only just telling me this now?"

Claude shrugged. "They were never sincerely trying to kill you. It wasn't relevant"

"Next time," Byleth said darkly. "You will tell me everything to expect from your siblings, regardless of its relevance."

Claude chortled. "Duly noted."

Cori leapt into the central fountain, swiping their foot in an arc that sent mud-colored water spraying up like a wave and blocking Tori's view. Claude braced himself, preparing to fire again as Cori whipped a second hatchet from beneath their shirt.

"How many of those fit under that tiny strip of cloth?" Byleth asked, widening his stance as Cori drew their arm back.

"Probably just the two." They were slim hatchets, meant for throwing. Cori probably had them lashed in an "X" across their back. "But that doesn't mean this is the end of hidden weapons."

Cori hurled the hatchet in the wake of the wall of water. Tori's whip cut the air, wrapping around the haft of the hatchet to snatch it out of the air, then casually whipping it back over their shoulder, heedless of the safety of others. Claude raised his bow, fumbling as he saw the hatchet headed right for him. Before he could finish sighting, Byleth stepped in front of him, a single sword strike dashing the hatchet from its deadly arc. As it landed, skittering on the road stones, Byleth kicked it into the center of the square, away from the crowd.

"Glad I keep you around," Claude said, grinning even as his heart pounded wildly within his chest.

Byleth only raised his eyebrows, saying nothing.

I'm gonna pay for that later, Claude thought, acknowledging that Byleth had at least just saved him from injury, if not saved his life.

Tori leapt onto the edge of the fountain, leading with their sword. Cori ducked around the stone spire in the center, jabbing with the point of their sword as they avoided Tori's attack. The barbed whip caught around the spire, falling short of its mark. Tori had to release it in order to back away from Cori's slide across the algae-covered bottom of the fountain. Cori leapt from the water to the rim of the fountain, then leapt again with a dancer's spin, leading with a kick. Tori dropped into a near-split to avoid the kick, Cori sailing over their head. Both spun, swords up, and charged to attack again. Sparks flew from the edges of their weapons. They traded positions so quickly that Claude lost sight of who was whom. Someone broke off the tip of the other's sword, the flashing point spinning end over end until it landed between two road stones, jagged edges pointing up. The twins broke away and circled, each of them breathing hard.

"Tori has the edge," Byleth observed quietly. "They scored a hit during that exchange."

Claude shook his head slowly. "No, wait. Watch."

Tori had, indeed, scored a hit. Cori backed away, one hand pressed to the wrist of their sword hand. But even as blood welled up from the cut, Cori revealed three hidden darts hidden beneath the bangle Tori had cut through. And as Tori cursed and backed away, sword braced defensively in front of them, they stumbled as they set their weight on their left foot: Cori had scored a touch across the back of Tori's ankle. Blood was pooling beneath their feet with every step they took.

Byleth appeared impressed. "I didn't think that blow landed."

"When they attack the same opponent, Tori always aims for the sword arm and Cori always goes for the ankles." Claude shifted his weight over the balls of his feet, predicting his siblings' moves before they made them. "Those darts are poison-tipped, I'd bet my bow on it."

"Then why haven't they thrown them yet?"

"Tori's too close. If they catch one, the darts turn into a weapon against Cori."

"What else is Tori armed with?"

"Aside from weaponizing their jewelry, I'm not sure," Claude admitted. "The whip is usually enough on its own, but that's..."

The whip was still wrapped around the pillar in the middle of the fountain, far out of reach from either twin. Cori's sword arm dripped blood, the sword held low now, rather than the high attack position they generally favored. Tori balanced most of their weight on their uninjured foot, only the toe of their left foot touching the stones. Their sword was held out parallel to their shoulders, knuckles of the opposite hand bracing the metal blade like a shield. The twins glared at each other over the edge of Tori's sword, each waiting on the other to make the first move. It seemed as if the entire crowd waited with them, holding their breath as they awaited the conclusion of the fight.

Against Claude's expectations, Tori took off first, deflecting Cori's darts with the flat of their blade as they ran, teeth gritted against every painful step. Cori saw where they were headed a moment too late, swearing before running for the fountain again. Tori skidded on the stepping stones, lunging low to scoop up the first hatchet Claude had shot out of the air. Cori leapt into the basin of the fountain, slapping the grip of the whip to spin it free of the central pillar. Before it could come completely free, Tori hurled the hatchet with the full strength of their body put behind it.

"Too low," Claude bemoaned, tracking the hatchet with an arrow set to the string. "If that misses, I won't be able to shoot it down without shooting someone in the crowd."

Luckily, Tori didn't miss. Cori dove behind the stone pillar just in time to avoid losing a limb, but then realized their error as the stone pillar cracked vertically where it was struck. The resounding echo of breaking stone reverberated off every corner of the square as the heavy stone bowl set atop the pillar crashed down towards where Cori was cowering. Maybe with two strong arms, Cori could have knocked the bowl away, but bleeding as they were, it didn't seem likely to work the way they would want it to. Instead, Cori set their jaw, swept their arms up, then dropped their upper body low, sweeping one leg up in a perfectly poised dancer's side-split. Their heel caught the middle of the falling stonework and sent it flying right back at Tori. Tori kicked off the ground, narrowly missing the projectile, which shattered on impact, spraying the bystanders with shards of jagged stone.

Claude cringed. "I'm going to see if anyone got hurt. Keep an eye on the fight!" Claude raced along the edge of the crowd, checking the civilians bloodied by the spray of debris. He kept one eye on the fight even as he slipped his bow over his shoulder to tend to a bleeding head wound. Despite the danger, the crowd didn't seem as if it would disperse anytime soon. After all, how often was it that they got to see two heirs to the throne fighting all out against each other? Especially when those two were the seemingly inseparable twins. Claude couldn't really blame them for wanting to take in the spectacle, but he wished they had the sense to grant the twins a wider berth. Cori and Tori were in a state of irrational bloodlust right now and didn't care who got caught in the crossfire.

Cori's kick might have been perfect, but before they could regain their stance, they lost their footing within the slippery fountain, dropping to a knee. Tori's leap carried them forward into a series of gymnastic twists and handsprings, landing lightly on the rim of the fountain once again, this time with a clear shot at Cori now that the central pillar was in ruins. Cori grabbed a hunk of rock and hurled it at Tori as they staggered to their feet. Tori dodged the rock easily before lunging at Cori. Cori fell backwards over the edge of the fountain, landing hard on their back. They managed to catch Tori's wrists--snapping their head sharply to the side to avoid the tip of Tori's scimitar--then landed a kick into Tori's midsection while rolling backwards, flinging Tori away from themselves. Claude spun around in time to bat the flying chunk of rock out of the air with the end of his bow. Tori would have crashed bodily into the crowd but for Byleth, catching them and setting them back on their feet. Without so much as a "thank you" Tori charged off after Cori, who was still climbing to their feet.

How can I end this without getting myself involved? Claude wondered, looking around for some means to end the fight. It should be enough that Dad hears about it without them having to kill each other first. Or anyone else, for that matter.

The twins crashed together, but Claude was struck by sudden inspiration. He shoved through the crowd, climbed atop a rain barrel, then scaled the side of an inn, leaving Byleth to deal with the twins' collateral damage. He searched his pockets until he found a scrap of parchment and a small block of coal. He scrawled a short message, then wrapped the message around the haft of an arrow. From the far corner of the inn's rooftop, Claude could just make out the massive stone bridge that spanned the valley before the palace built into the far mountainside. Royal guardsmen manned towers on either side of the bridge, a small mobile army meant to defend the bridge from a ground assault. The soldiers were trained to ride horses and wyverns in order to respond to threats quickly and while this "threat" was on the lower scale than, say, an approaching army, the royal guardsmen could surely break up a fight between royal siblings. Claude took careful aim, pointing the arrow high so it would arc down in between the two sentry towers--he needed it to be seen. Then, with a prayer that his shot wouldn't harm anyone, Claude loosed, the arrow quickly lost to sight.

Hoping that help would arrive soon, Claude turned back to observe the fight from his new vantage point. The twins were exchanging vicious blows at the far corner of the square, the crowd of people pushing each other back to make room for the fight. Tori's sword was missing its point, but their attacks were no less vicious for it, though their stance remained weak as they couldn't put much weight on their injured leg. Cori had switched their sword to their left hand, the right now shining with blood and while they managed a decent defense, they couldn't conduct an attack while at such a disadvantage. If one of them managed to land a strike, the other might submit, though Claude had his doubts on that: while their blood might be half-Brigid, the twins fought with the ferocity of any Almyran warrior. If they weren't stopped, they'd kill each other.

Byleth stood between the twins and the crowd. When a sword flashed too close to a civilian, Byleth turned it back with his own sword. He didn't take part in the fight, but stood by almost like a sparring coach. If all else failed, Claude could likely have Byleth physically separate the twins from each other, but he shuddered to think how much that would cost in terms of their contract. After all, they'd only negotiated for acts of espionage and body guarding so far, not full-on combat with warriors as strong as the twins. Plus, if Byleth interrupted, the twins could just as easily unite against a common enemy--Claude had seen that happen before. He needed to keep them directed at each other just a little while longer--just long enough to put himself back into his father's good graces. 

Hurry up! Claude thought at the royal guardsmen that he hoped were even now assembling to respond to his message. He sighted with his bow, shooting down a scimitar scabbard that had somehow gotten tossed up from the fight. Hurry up and stop this before someone loses something that can't be healed!

He heard the clatter of horseshoes on cobblestone before the shadow of a wyvern swept over his post. Claude pretended not to notice it as he fired an arrow that knocked aside Cori's blade just as it was descending on Tori's unprotected head. In almost the same instant, Byleth's sword-whip snaked around Tori's wrist, yanking their hand back from a disemboweling cut along Cori's abdomen. The warriors gave identical sneers, but before they could make another move, cavalry soldiers burst into the square and a wyvern touched down in the open space, a grizzled army captain sliding off its back before it fully touched down.

"What is the meaning of this!" The captain barked, his words less a question than an order for an explanation. Armored horses surged through an opening in the crowd, some going to manage the dispersal of the commoners, others riding deliberately (and dangerously) between the twins to separate them from each other. "We got word of an assassination attempt!"

The twins shouted accusingly at each other, each claiming it _was_ an assassination attempt, only it was one against the other. The captain let them argue for a minute, then rolled his eyes at the both of them.

"Break it up. I don't get paid enough to deal with the squabbles of royal brats," the captain growled. Claude only heard him as he dropped down from the inn's rooftop, slipping in between the scattering commoners to cross the square. "We're escorting you both back to the palace. You can explain whatever's going on here to your father."

"Fine! I'm happy to tell Father everything!" Cori snapped, spinning on their heel.

"As am I!" Tori shouted, though they weren't moving nearly as fast as Cori was. An army healer had hopped off their horse and was tending to Tori's bloody ankle. Cori mounted a cavalry horse before anyone could catch them to heal them. Claude wended his way through the soldiers, ducking his head humbly as he waved to the captain, trying to get his attention.

"Prince Claude." The captain frowned. "Or I suppose it's just Claude now, isn't it?"

"For now." Claude accepted his lack of title with stilted grace. "Ah, I just wanted to say: you should probably keep those two separated on the way back to the palace. They're both pretty worked up and I'd hate to see a repeat of this occur on the bridge."

And, more importantly, he needed to keep the twins from talking on their way back. If Cori revealed the prostitute's murder, the twins might realize they'd been outwardly manipulated into this fight. They needed to still be at each other's throats when they stood in front of the king.

The captain muttered something about royal brats. "Noted. And I suppose you want me to put a word in for you with your father?"

Claude feigned surprise. "Sir?"

The captain gave him a "Don't bullshit me" kind of look before handing over a piece of paper rolled into a coil. "One of my soldiers gave this to me. Said he pulled it off a gold-fletched arrow that landed near the garrison." The captain glanced pointedly at Claude's quiver, bristling with gold-fletched arrows.

"Ha ha." Claude ducked his head. "It was all I could think of to do at the time. Everyone who saw the royal trial by combat knows I'm no match for either of them."

"And yet, you managed to keep them from killing each other long enough for help to arrive," the captain said gruffly. "Don't worry. I'll put in a word with the king for you."

"It's appreciated," Claude said, shrugging modestly. "But, ah...try not to let the twins know about my 'help' if you can avoid it? I'd rather not have them come after me in the future."

"I'll see what I can do." The captain made a motion to his soldiers, telling them all to mount up. Two soldiers gave up their horses to Cori and Tori, who were still avoiding each other at distal ends of the square. Claude watched the captain mount his wyvern with a touch of envy; he missed flying the way a retired warrior missed their sword. He stood in the wyvern's downdraft, letting the wind ruffle his hair and clothing, imagining the sensation of lift-off deep in his guts. He sighed heavily, hoping his father would send for him soon.

Before the wyvern was completely gone from sight, Byleth stepped up to Claude's shoulder.

"What happens now?"

"Now?" Claude hummed a moment, shading his eyes against the sun. "Now we wait for a royal summons."

Byleth glanced sidelong at Claude. "Are you going to starve between now and then?"

"Hm? Oh, no." Claude chuckled. "We're going to stop by the twins' villa and pick up a few things. Mainly some incriminating paperwork, but also maybe a few pieces of jewelry to sell in the meantime."

Byleth nodded. "You think that summons will arrive soon?"

Claude grinned. "Yeah. I really think it will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like our boys are finally moving to the palace in the next chapter! No more skipping meals for poor Claude. If you want to know when the next chapter is dropping, please subscribe or follow me on Twitter @ShiroKabocha1.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude's plan has worked and he’s been invited back into the palace with his title restored! But it may be that defeating the twins was the easy part… It’s to put step two into action, but first, Byleth might need a little payment for services rendered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out, this one gets spicy!

"Are you certain you won't need me?" Byleth asked, expression severe as he eyed the soldiers standing guard over the throne room door.

"Aw, you're actually worried about me, aren't you?" Claude said, teasing Byleth in order to distract himself from his own unease. He managed to control the slight tremble of his hands as he smoothed his ill-fitting clothes, but couldn't seem to calm his racing heart. He compensated by laughing louder than necessary and smiling wider than usual. He clapped Byleth firmly on the shoulder, adjusted the fit of his clothes one last time--he'd had to dig deep into the closet of his mother's house to find an outfit worthy of the palace--then nodded to the throne room guards.

The carved marble doors were drawn open slowly, with the grit of centuries adding an ominous drag as they were pulled outward. Claude tamped his nerves down hard as he stepped jauntily through the doors, leaving Byleth behind him.

It wasn't that he didn't think he'd need Byleth in the throne room. It was just...if he did need Byleth, then the game was already lost. This meeting was a roll of the dice and Claude just had to hope that his run of luck wasn't up just yet.

Few people were ever summoned to this small inner throne room--petitions were often heard in the grand throne pavilion, a raised esplanade built off the side of the palace that anyone--common or noble--could come and seek the king's wisdom. This inner throne room was most often used for private decrees, secret criminal sentencing, and family matters. It was here that Claude had been stripped of his title of "prince." Here that he'd been made little more than a simple commoner.

Can't let that weigh me down now! Claude told himself with forced cheer, striding across the polished marble with purpose and authority.

Though most of the polished floor gleamed a brilliant white, gold-colored marble stones led from the doors to the middle of the room, several feet in front of the throne, where those summoned were meant to bow and accept their accolades or punishment. Claude's father, the king of Almyra, lounged sideways on his throne, one hairy, bare leg tossed over the arm of throne, the other dangled over the edge of the seat, his embroidered robes rucked up carelessly. His hands pillowed his head against the opposite armrest, looking for all the world like a lazy marketplace vendor, rather than the king of the realm. He grinned as he watched his son approach, though that wasn't exactly a comfort. Claude's mother sat to the right of the throne on a cushioned stool, her hands demurely folded in her lap, her expression unreadable. She'd looked much the same the day Claude had lost his title, so he couldn't really tell anything from that. They were the only two present in the room--no other wives, no siblings, not even guards, once the marble doors were pulled closed behind Claude.

Claude stepped up to the very edge of the golden floor stones, putting one impertinent toe over the line before dropping to one knee. He folded his arm across his chest and bowed his head, a proper genuflection. He held the pose for a moment, then grinned as he looked up. "Well, isn't this a cozy family gathering?"

The king of Almyra laughed, slapping a knee as he shifted to sit upright. "I told you he'd come in with a joke, didn't I?"

His wife smiled fondly at him. "Yes, dear, you did."

Claude fixed a carefree grin on his face; it wasn't exactly difficult to anticipate Claude making a wisecrack--it was basically how he approached every situation in life. He'd even made a joke about losing his status as a prince. His general approach to life was like a magician's show: keep them laughing so they never saw the trick going on right under their noses.

"To what do I owe this summons, Father?" Claude asked, still on bended knee before the throne. He could make any joke he wanted, so long as he maintained an approximation of reverence.

"No doubt you already know," the king replied, his manner still jovial. "I had the twins in here just yesterday, those rascals." Only a father could refer to the deadly and conniving twins as "rascals" but then, in family circles Claude was still referred to as the "mischievous scamp" rather than the far more popular "master tactician." "One of my wyvern captains says you caught them fighting in the city square like a couple of common brawlers."

"Common brawlers" was not the term Claude would have associated with the twins' elegant, if deadly, fighting style, but he nodded all the same. "I had been spending some time with them in the city. It was a surprise to see them suddenly go after each other with killing intent. They were always so close growing up."

"Yes, yes." The king's eyes glinted with hidden intellect. In all likelihood, he probably already suspected what was going on, but refused to interfere with the squabbles of his children. He couldn't say it out loud, but Claude suspected his father might even be proud of him. "The wyvern captain also said you kept the two of them from killing each other, and from harming any of the bystanders. He and his soldiers were impressed by your actions and seemed to think you worthy of some kind of reward."

Claude ducked his head. "I only acted to protect those around me, including my siblings. It's nothing anyone else wouldn't have done."

"But no one else did anything," Claude's father pointed out. "Except for you and your retainer. Even the city guard stood by until the soldiers from the gate-bridge arrived."

Claude almost laughed at his father calling Byleth his "retainer." "The city guard is used to bowing to the twins' orders. I imagine it was just as shocking to them to see the twins fighting as it was for me. They likely feared receiving conflicting orders if they attempted to step into the fray."

The king grinned and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "So? Whose side were you on? Corinne's or Torinne's?"

"I had been with Cori earlier in the day." It did no good to try and hide that fact. "I was with them when they found their favorite prostitute dead in the brothel, but I saw no evidence that Tori was the girl's murderer. I wasn't on either side, I just didn't want them hurting each other without proof that Tori was a murderer."

"A prudent and wise decision," Claude's mother said, addressing Claude for the first time. Her expression was stoic, but Claude caught a hint of approval in her eyes.

"I've ordered the city guard to look into that matter," the king said with a dismissive wave of his hand. What was the death of a prostitute to him? "I've sent the twins away to cool down. Since they can't seem to get along right now, I sent Corinne to the Sogu Pass and Torinne to the Anataly plains. When they can get along with each other, they may be allowed back to the palace again."

So not banished the way Claude had been--no loss of status, rank, or funds--but it was likely punishment enough to send the twins to opposite ends of the empire from each other. The Sogu Pass was far to the north, often snowed in and wouldn't allow Cori to enjoy their usual filmy Brigid clothing. The south, where Tori had been sent, was warmer by far, but also known to be plagued with biting insects and winds sharp enough to cut skin. Claude didn't envy either of them.

"That sounds fair," Claude allowed, bowing his head once again. "We can't have heirs to the throne attempting to murder each other in broad daylight, can we?"

The king roared with laughter. "No! No, we cannot!"

As the king had a good laugh, Claude and his mother exchanged a quick look. Her smile was small but approving, as was the tiny nod she gave him. Claude grinned back in relief; his mother might not take his side openly, but she did have his back. That, at least, was a comfort.

It also made him feel pretty good about what came next.

"So!" The king said, when his laughter finally died. "How about it, son? What kind of reward do you think is worthy of protecting your siblings from each other?"

"I ask only that you choose what seems most fitting," Claude replied. "I'm sure I'll be happy with whatever you decide."

"Clever, clever boy." The king looked over at his wife, who smiled blithely back at him. "Takes after you, doesn't he?"

"The von Riegans were always known to be shrewd," she answered with a sharp smile.

"Ha! So be it, then." The king leaned back in his throne, sitting almost regally for the first time. "I hereby grant you all your former titles and properties. You are once again my son and a prince of the realm."

Claude pushed himself up to his feet--a prince did not kneel as a commoner did. He did bow formally from the waist, however, one arm still crossed over his breast. "Thank you, Father. I won't disgrace you again."

"Ah, you didn't disgrace me the first time." The king waved a hand lazily. "Armed combat just isn't your strength. I knew it, you knew it, your siblings knew it, hell, the whole kingdom probably knew it. You faced that trial the way you were supposed to, though, and that made me proud." The king grinned fiercely as he nodded. Of course, the expression slid off his face soon after. "But, you know, you did lose pretty miserably."

Claude forced a laugh. As if _anyone_ could have beaten Tahj, much less someone whose specialty was archery. "I'll strive not to lose again, Father."

"I know you will." The king winked. Then he yawned widely, looking around at the high windows. "Is it feasting time yet? I grow hungry."

"I'm certain the feasting hall is being set as we speak," Claude's mother replied in a soothing tone. She gave Claude a pointed look. "Will you join us for tonight's feast?"

"Ah." Claude ducked his head sheepishly. "I'm afraid I've been living a bit meanly for a while now. My stomach isn't exactly up to the rich palace foods just yet."

The king frowned--an Almyran warrior should always have a good appetite--but his wife cut across him before he could speak: "You are looking a little lean, my darling. I'll have some wholesome foods sent to your rooms. When you are feeling more yourself, I hope you will join the family at a feast."

"Thank you, Mother. I'll look forward to seeing everyone soon." It was actually more of a punishment than an honor to have to attend the family feasts--all the king's wives were there, as well as some of his younger children, the ones too young to be considered as heirs. As a child, it had been chaotic and fun, with tons of food to either eat or throw at the others. As an adult, it was a lot of snide comments from his aunts while the king laughed and acted as if they were all simply kidding around--whenever he wasn't egging the younger kids on, anyway. The adult children weren't required to attend the family feasts, but Claude suspected his mother wanted to show off the fact that Claude was returned to the court, so he'd have to make at least one appearance. Luckily, he'd been able to put it off for at least a few nights.

Claude bowed once more as his parents left the throne room together through a side exit to the king's personal chambers. They must have sent a signal to the door guards because as Claude turned around, the stone doors scraped open once more, revealing an impatient-looking Byleth, standing with his arms crossed in the center of the doorway.

"Well?" Byleth asked.

Claude grinned. "Allow me to show you where we'll be staying from now on."

Little had changed in the time that Claude had been living in disgrace--although, perhaps palaces built into the sides of cliffs didn't change for practical reasons. Simply building something this large must have been quite the feat of engineering and magic, never mind making it as breathtakingly beautiful as it was. The corridors were wide enough for a full-grown wyvern to walk down, though that was a fairly rare occasion, with ceilings high enough to accommodate flight if it was necessary. Crystals as large as Claude's head were built into the walls and held light spells, so illumination was constant, bright and clear--far superior to candles. The color of the light could even be changed for festivals or threats of attack and siege, though that, again, was a rarity. Instead of tapestries, the walls were carved reliefs, depicting glorious battles, majestic wyverns, and the kings and queens of the past. And Claude's favorite part of all were the secret passages that honeycombed the walls, some merely servants' passages, but others actual secret tunnels for midnight romances, or escape passages in times of siege. Or, mostly, places for royal children to sneak around in when they were supposed to be at lessons. At some point, Claude would have to show Byleth all the passages he'd discovered in his youth, because doubtless Tahj and Azida recalled those passages as well and could very well make use of them if they considered Claude to be a threat.

Because of course he was a threat.

Claude's newly reinstated title must have passed rapidly through the palace--either that, or the decision had been made before he'd even set foot in the throne room--because servants and palace nobles all dipped their heads as Claude walked past, some few even offering words of welcome, or bids for him to have a good evening. Most of the faces were familiar to him, though a few of the servants or noble's paramours were new. He'd catch up on all the gossip soon, but the item of paramount importance in Claude's mind was eating. Well, that and avoiding--

"Claude, my darling brother."

Claude stopped short, throwing an arm out to block Byleth's path. He fixed a smile on his face as he met his sister's gaze. "Azida, my dearest sister. It's been too long."

Azida stood in an archway draped with sheer silks, which only lent elegance to her sudden appearance. She was tall for a woman, slightly taller than Claude himself, but with willow-thin limbs and delicate features. Her skin was the darkest of all the siblings, owing to the fact that her mother was the only Almyran woman the king had chosen to wed. She wore her rich, black hair loose and straight down her back, though her onyx eyes were covered by the sheerest veil. Her clothing was all silk in pale, creamy colors, designed to accentuate her curves, but that wasn't what drew Claude's focus. While attempting to keep his eyes trained on her face, he searched her form until he found the tiny passengers she carried; Azida was never alone.

"My, you look so...tired," Azida said artfully, eyebrows lifted in an expression of concern that didn't fool Claude. "You know that if you were in need, you could always have come by my temple for aid."

"Ah, it was never that bad," Claude assured her. "I didn't want to take any resources from those who truly needed them."

That, and Claude knew better than to trust Azida's "aid."

"How very thoughtful of you." Azida shifted her gaze slowly over to Byleth, expression unreadable as her eyes tracked down, then up again. "Who is your new guardian, dear brother? Did you mother's family send him to you?"

"No, but he is from Fodlan." Claude glanced over at Byleth, who seemed to be sizing up Azida just as she was sizing him up. "Byleth is my latest paramour. He'll be staying with me in my rooms."

"How nice," Azida said, her sharp smile undercutting the pleasant tone. "Then I shall look forward to getting to know you, Paramour Byleth. We'll have to take tea together sometime. Unfortunately, I was just on my way to mix up a cure for one of my patients." Azida raised a small basket of bundled herbs and leaves, which made sense: the doorway behind her led to one of the palace’s many courtyard gardens.

"It was fortunate running into you, sister," Claude said politely as he stepped out of her path. "I'll look forward to your invitation to tea."

"Yes." Her smile looked almost venomous. "Let's not wait too long before we catch up."

Azida dipped her head and Claude gave a shallow bow, which Byleth repeated. Azida stepped past them, leaving the sillage of lillies in her wake. Claude grasped Byleth's elbow and moved him in the opposite direction at a quicker--but not hurried--pace. It was unlikely that Azida had any plans in motion already, but Claude would still feel better once he was in the relative safety of his rooms.

A single guard awaited them outside Claude's apartments, bowing once and telling him that his rooms had all been prepared and that his mother's servants had left dinner for him. Claude thanked the servant as they peeled back the heavy velvet curtain that hid the door to Claude's room. He couldn't help the feeling of relief that came over him as he pushed the door open, sweeping his arm grandly as he invited Byleth in.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Claude announced. After Byleth stepped inside, he thanked the door guard, then shut and locked the door. Byleth was the only guardian he needed in this entire palace, anyway. He grinned as he surveyed the plumped pillows, the fresh candles and the low table laden with food. "Looks like we made it."

Byleth made a sound almost like a soft laugh as he scanned the room. "Not quite. Wasn't this only step one of your plan?"

"Well, steps one and two." Claude walked over to the low table piled high with fruit and grabbed a golden peach from a mounded peak. The first bite tasted like victory and he savored it on his tongue even as juices ran down his chin. "Umph, can't believe I can finally eat again. You have no idea how good this tastes!"

Byleth eyed him with something akin to amusement. "You think I've never gone hungry before?"

Claude grinned. "You're welcome to tell me a story from your past while I gorge myself." He waved for Byleth to take a seat. Rather than do as he was bid, Byleth circled the room, checking behind curtains and tapestries. Claude seated himself on a cushion before the table, gathering bits of his favorite foods to him like a dragon hoarding treasure.

"You going to eat some of this?" Claude asked through a mouthful.

"In a minute." Byleth peered through curtained doorways into the rooms beyond the parlor. "Is there any chance someone could be hiding in here?" He glanced back over his shoulder. "Or that your food has been poisoned?"

"My mother sent this food," Claude replied. "Which means she had her personal staff prepare and deliver it. So at least this time, we can trust it. Later on." Claude shrugged. "Who knows?"

Byleth disappeared into one of the rooms branching off the parlor. Claude was content to let him search a while as picked through pastries and fruits, cooked meats and fresh vegetables, watered wines and nectar-thick juices. He wasn't too concerned about anyone inside his rooms right then; his only immediate concern was eating. He hadn't had a bite all day while he awaited his father's summons and he'd finished the pilfered foods from the twins' home the night before. And if there was a spy inside Claude's rooms, he doubted Byleth would be able to find it, much less remove it.

The other rooms were a small study, a wash chamber, a changing room and, of course, a regally outfitted bedroom, complete with a balcony over the cliff side. Protection spells kept the balcony from being a point of entry, but most threats here would come from within the palace rather than without. Claude could have explained all of that to Byleth, but first, it would have taken away from his ability to eat (very important) and second, Byleth probably still would have insisted on doing a sweep anyway. By the time Claude was beginning to feel full and possibly slightly sick from overindulging, Byleth returned to the parlor and sat across the table from him.

"The protective runes on the balcony look recently refreshed. Are there any other points of entry to your rooms?"

"There's a servant’s passage in the dressing chamber, you probably saw that," Claude said, pointing. "And there's two secret passages to these rooms, one beneath the bed, and the other behind the fireplace."

Byleth gave him a dark look. "Who knows about the secret passages?"

"Oh, just, like, the guards and my mom and my aunts, a lover who once had to make a hasty exit and...uh, Cori, Tori, Tahj and Azida."

"So everyone?"

"Pretty much everyone, yeah."

"How does that make these passages secret?"

"Well, I mean, they're full of spider webs and dust and stuff, so it's not like anyone actually _uses_ them. They were cool when we were kids pranking each other, but we're not going crawling through them now." Claude thought for a minute, then revised his statement: "Not unless we _have_ to." His stomach rounded and uncomfortably full, Claude grabbed a second pillow and leaned back, reclining to let his stomach settle. "Come to think of it, I don't think Tahj could even fit inside those passageways anymore."

Byleth surveyed the selection of food on the table before selecting some spiced flatbread and smeared it with butter and shaved garlic. "Tell me about these other two. Any chance we can knock them out of the running at once, like the twins?"

"Ha, no. But I wish." Claude settled into the pillows, glad to talk while Byleth ate. "Tahj and Azida are polar opposites and they don't tread on each other's turf. There's no place where their interests intersect, except for the throne, so there isn't any way to set them against each other. And Tahj...well, he's too big a target for us right now, so let's just focus on Azida."

By Byleth's narrowed glare, Claude assumed he wanted to press the issue, but Claude had always felt it was important to start slow when playing an elegant and perfect game.

"Okay, so, my sister--wait, wait." Claude pushed himself up to an elbow and glanced around the room once. "Any chance you want to come sit by me? No? Ugh, fine." Rather than get up, Claude crawled around to Byleth's side of the table--Byleth had seen him in more vulnerable positions and he simply felt too full to stand all the way up. After plumping a few pillows, then laying his head on Byleth's folded leg, Claude lowered his voice drastically. "Azida is the closest to me in intelligence and the one most likely to have set spies on my room. If you want to say anything, just speak really low."

"It seems odd that a prince's room wouldn't come with silence and intruder wards," Byleth commented in a low voice.

"Not really. The palace guards need to be able to respond if I'm being assassinated or kidnapped or whatever. I can request magical protections, but then Azida wouldn't have to _guess_ if I was up to anything, she would just _know_. Oh and, by the way, Azida is the most powerful magic-user in the palace anyway. If she wanted a ward broken, she'd just take it down."

Byleth frowned. "Isn't she just a priestess?"

"That's what she'd have you believe," Claude said, wagging a finger. "She does public works in the names of the gods and she certainly does a lot of healing, but Azida is actually a summoner, and a powerful one at that. Did you notice any of her 'pets' when we saw her earlier?"

"The bird on her shoulder was a fledgling phoenix," Byleth replied. "It's not unheard of to use phoenixes for healing purposes."

"Oh, yeah, the baby phoenix wasn't what I was worried about," Claude said, waving a hand back and forth. "I wanted to know if you noticed her other two companions."

Byleth stopped in the middle of taking a bite of his bread, then frowned. "Her necklace looked like a golden snake. But I thought it was just a well-crafted piece of jewelry."

"That's what you’re supposed to think. And it wasn't a snake, either, but a golden xaqik. Do you have those in Fodlan?"

"No," Byleth admitted after a pause. "Or if we do, perhaps I know it by another name."

"They're fairly rare even here, so it's understandable if you haven't come across one yet. You know how snakes can be venomous?"

"I'm aware."

"Well, the chief property of a xaqik is that it produces something called an anti-venom. One bite from a xaqik will cure you of almost any toxin. Even better, xaqik can be trained to sense when their handler’s blood has come into contact with a poison, venom or toxin, so they'll give you a little love-bite before even _you_ know you've been poisoned."

Byleth blinked slowly. "The poison the twins slipped into her drink."

"Yep, that's right." Claude shook his head chidingly. "The twins never were all that bright. Azida never has to worry about accepting tainted food or drink from anyone, so long as she has her little pet close at hand. It's not always a necklace, either. I've seen her wear it as a bracelet, an armband, or even a belt."

Byleth chewed his food slowly, took a sip of wine, then said: "You said there were three animals in total."

"Yep. Well, three that I saw and three is her usual minimum. There could have been more." Claude tapped a finger on his opposite hand. "A signet spider on one of her rings. That's why I blocked you from getting too close to her. A signet spider can be used for tracking. I mean, a female spider can be tracked by a male signet spider. They follow the scent or something, I'm not entirely sure. But one of Azida's favorite tricks if she thinks someone might try to sneak up on her is to place a signet spider on them and let her collection of male signets let her know if that person is trying to sneak up on her."

"Your sister seems very cautious."

"Of course she is. She would have been the heir-apparent if not for Tahj's mother raising our brother from the cradle to beat out the rest of us for the throne."

"Tell me about your brother."

"Another time." Claude shooed the query away. "He's not even here right now, he's off leading troops against the Throat of Fodlan. We don't have to worry about him right now."

"Fine, then." Claude looked up from Byleth's lap to see him glancing around the room with a thoughtful expression. "I've heard it said that summoners can use their creatures as spies."

"That's why we're whispering in the center of the room," Claude pointed out. "In order to relay a conversation, a summoned creature has to have a certain level of awareness. There aren't any bugs or spiders that reach that level of intelligence and small mammals are too easily distracted. We would notice any large animals, so her only option would be some sort of bird." Claude rolled a finger to encompass the ceiling. "And I've been bird watching."

Byleth made a noise that sounded almost impressed. "Sometimes I forget how deeply knowledgeable you are."

"I just make it my business to know everyone else's business." Claude grinned.

"So what is the plan?"

"Well, Azida has made it her life's work to appear as the ideal Almyran woman. She doesn't stand out politically, though whenever she decides to support an issue, it always ends up passing. She's not a warrior, but she supports war efforts with her strategy, leadership and, most importantly, her healing. And she doesn't seal herself away behind locked doors, but runs an open temple in the city to support the poor, the ill and the homeless. I mean, if Almyra believed in saints the way Fodlan does, she'd be nominated for sainthood without even the prerequisite of dying first."

"How is she at combat?" Byleth asked, musing. "I could challenge her and have her suffer an awful training accident."

Claude pinched Byleth's wrist, earning a glower from the mercenary. "No killing or horribly maiming my siblings. I may need them later on. Remember?"

Byleth rolled his eyes. "You make very simple things complicated."

"Yep. That's what I do." Claude pushed himself up to sitting and slung an arm over Byleth's shoulders, leaning his weight into him. "Besides, you'd never successfully get her to accept a physical combat challenge."

"I dabble in some magic," Byleth offered.

"Dabbling won't do it. She's a summoner. And while the creatures she had on her today were of the 'tiny and cute' variety, those aren't her only familiars. It's been years since she's had an actual public duel with another magic-user, but I used to lurk around her practice sessions as a kid. She's got some ferocious beasts at her beck and call, and the strength required to summon multitudes, if she has the need."

"Summoned beasts can turn on their masters," Byleth suggested. "It's been known to happen. And losing control of a beast would make her appear unfit as a leader."

Claude shook his head. "Not these beasts. Azida raises her summoned monsters from infancy, or she collected them while they were injured, weak or starving. She treats them just like the lost souls who seek her aid at her temple. She's practically a mother to them. They won't turn on her."

Byleth huffed. "Then what exactly is the plan?"

"The plan is to discredit her." Claude shrugged. "Something that shows Father and everyone else that she isn't the saint she pretends to be. Everyone has secrets; I just need a little time to uncover hers."

Byleth considered, then nodded. "Is there one secret in specific that you hope to uncover?"

"I have a few ideas." Claude shrugged. "The best lead I've got is her temple. Supposedly, she built it all with her own allowance from the crown, but _I_ never received enough money to construct an entire temple dedicated to making people worship me. I'm hoping to find evidence that she stole from the crown, or at least received funds in a less than above-board manner. If I can expose her for stealing from the very people who support her, like the common-folk, she'll be too ruined to ever serve as queen."

"And what if that is all above-board?"

"Then I'll find something else." Claude plucked a grape off a bunch and popped it in his mouth. "Like I said: Everyone's got secrets."

"Hm." Byleth gave Claude a sideways glance. "Does the fact that you're eating again mean that you're feeling less full now?"

"Huh. I guess so?" Claude mused for a moment and realized he felt as if he could eat again. Or at least, he was no longer uncomfortably full. Then he frowned. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means." Byleth bumped Claude with his shoulder, then faster than Claude could gasp, he'd caught both of Claude's hands in his own and rolled Claude onto his back on the floor, hovering over him. "That I'm owed a payment. And I'd like to collect."

"Ha! Sure thing." Claude grinned up at the mercenary. "Want me to send for a concubine? What's your pleasure? Male? Female? Something more exotic?"

"I'm a man of simple tastes," Byleth said, voice soft. "I want what's already on my plate."

"Fine, fine!" Claude laughed, rolling onto his side to slide out from beneath Byleth. "I did promise to make my next payment in the palace, didn't I? Come on. Let me show you the bedroom."

"I've seen it," Byleth said, following as Claude stood up anyway. "I checked every room when we got here. And I have to say, your wash chamber isn't at all what you described."

"Not my personal wash chamber, no," Claude agreed, drawing the curtain over the balcony closed. "I was talking about the spring-fed bathing pools on the higher levels. Which, by the way, we should definitely check out. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Tomorrow, definitely," Byleth agreed, catching Claude's wrist and towing him towards the bed that dominated the center of the room. It was round, laden with pillows, set with new blankets and large enough to fit a half-grown wyvern comfortably--Claude knew that from experience because he remembered the day his own wyvern could no longer sleep in the bed beside him anymore was the same day his wyvern could finally be fitted with a saddle and ridden for short trips. It was both a happy and a sad memory at the same time.

Claude tugged his arm free of Byleth's hold, laughing lightly. "Hold on a minute. You haven't seen the best part yet."

He opened a tiny cabinet set directly into the wall, revealing rows of brightly colored glass bottles.

"What's your pleasure? Amber jasmine? Ocean breeze? Winter pine?" Claude plucked a few glass jars from the cabinet, reading off the labels.

Byleth narrowed his eyes. "I thought those were poisons."

"Ha! No." Claude unstoppered the amber bottle and wafted it beneath his nose. "Scented oils. _Never_ keep your poisons in the bedroom. Or the kitchen, for that matter. That's just a recipe for disaster."

Claude had hoped to earn a bit of a chuckle at that, but the mercenary only considered him with that dark, hooded look. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Uh..." It took Claude a moment to understand the question: they still hadn't had sex yet--not traditionally, anyway. They'd had oils, but Byleth had always opted for oral sex, or fingering on occasion. The fact that he was asking Claude about his wants now seemed like Byleth was ready to move up to the real thing. Claude fixed a jaunty grin on his face. "Yeah, baby, let's do it. You said I owed you, right? And what's better than doing a prince in a palace?"

Byleth started forward, eyes fixed like a hunter. Claude suddenly regretted having his hands full of tiny glass bottles--Byleth looked ready to take a bite out of him. After all this time in Almyra, Claude would have expected Byleth to take on the scents of the city, but instead he still smelled like winter forests, salt-soaked sand and the dried blood of a thousand battles. His skin was mysteriously cool as his hand closed around the amber bottle of jasmine-scented oil.

"Are you sure that's the one?" Claude asked as Byleth's ice-colored eyes bored into his with unmistakable heat. "You look more like a winter pine kind of guy."

"It's the one that's open," Byleth said simply, backing Claude up with a step. Claude took the hint and set the other bottles down quickly--no point in letting Byleth break them just because he was in a hurry. And _wow_ did he seem in a hurry. Or at least, eager to get on with it.

"Did you want something specific?" Claude asked, feeling a touch of nerves flutter inside his gut. Byleth had always taken charge before and it was easiest to give him what he wanted--easiest, and usually the most pleasurable as well.

Byleth reached up slowly and tugged the yellow scarf from Claude's hair, which he'd only put on for his summons to the palace. His hair fell long and loose over his face, untamed by oil as the scarf slithered off his shoulder to pool on the floor. Claude held still as callused fingers tipped his chin first one way, then another.

"What could I do to you?" Byleth asked, as if musing out loud. "Tie you up? Strike you? Hold your throat until you pass out? What would you deny me, Prince Claude?"

Claude shuddered at the idea of being completely at Byleth's non-existent mercy. He'd played such sex-games before, of course, but generally with safeguards in place. He didn't imagine Byleth would abide by such terms. Still, he recognized the challenge in the question and intentionally rose to meet it.

"Our agreement was that I wouldn't deny you anything," Claude replied evenly. "I want you to be satisfied with your compensation. So tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."

The faintest shadow of a smile crossed Byleth's face. "Good." He stepped back and away, eyes flicking down then up Claude's body. "Undress for me, prince."

Claude lifted his hands to his collar, popping gold-colored buttons out of place. His clothing wasn't exactly rich--if it had been, he would have sold it for food back when he was living in the city--but it was rich-looking, which was why he'd chosen to wear it for his summons. Byleth sat back on the bed, eyes locked on Claude as he tugged his collar loose, then set to untying the sash around his waist. Just like his head scarf, he let it fall to the floor in a spill of silk before he shot Byleth a grin and lifted off his knee-length tunic, leaving him in his golden undershirt and fawn-brown leggings.

A note of panic shot through Claude as he continued undressing. They had been naked together before, that wasn't the issue here. The issue was: where would Byleth sleep now? In the villa, Byleth had preferred to sleep in a bedroll across the doorway, as they had been on high alert for an attack from the twins. There was little chance that someone would be bold enough to attack Claude in his own bed, but if someone was able to enter his room, it was likely they would do so by the secret passages, rather than through the door. Which meant the safest place to sleep was right beside Byleth. Was that something Byleth would agree to? Was that something Claude was ready for?

"What's the matter?" Byleth's voice brought Claude back like a chilling breeze. "Where are you right now?"

_Shit!_ Claude had forgotten how easy it was for Byleth to know when his mind was wandering.

"I'm here," Claude assured him, letting to gold shirt fall from his fingers. He sat back on a pillow-topped ottoman to remove his boots, hands ranging languidly down his leg to the laces. "Just getting a little ahead of myself, I'm afraid."

"Are you?" Byleth asked, corners of his mouth slightly upturned. "Afraid?"

Claude's breath caught at the hint of a threat. He grinned because it was really his only defense mechanism. "Not especially. You wouldn't hurt me too badly, or else I couldn't keep the game going. And if the game ends early, so do these 'payments.'"

"Is that what you think?" Byleth asked, voice soft and deadly. "What if I don't hurt you badly? What if I hurt you just enough?"

Claude felt his semi-hard erection leapt to full attention so suddenly it felt like a punch to the gut. He wished he had a moment to consider that, but he couldn't let his attention wander again. Instead, he cast his boot off, then reached for the opposite one. "Then I guess I’d have to be okay with that."

The room was dimly lit, only catching the barest amount of light around the balcony curtain, as well as some of the candlelight from the front parlor. Claude could have ordered the guard stationed at his door to have the crystal lamps turned on but he hadn't thought of it sooner and he wasn't going to go to the door half-naked now. Besides, the shadows helped with the ambiance of the room, giving Byleth just a hint of dark menace as Claude tossed his second boot aside, then stood to remove his leggings with a flourish. He smirked, tipping his head at a cocky angle.

"See anything you like?"

He realized too late that he probably shouldn't have baited the mercenary. Byleth stood slowly, leaving the little glass bottle behind on the bed as he walked a slow circle around Claude, snow-colored hands dragging over the planes of his stomach, the roll of his shoulder, the curve of his ass. Byleth stopped behind him, breath sharp and cool as mint in Claude's ear: "Is anyone going to come in and stop me if I make you scream?"

Claude couldn't control the violent shiver that raced along his skin at that. "M-maybe I should go alert the door guard, just to let him know."

"Hm." Byleth hummed softly, fingertips tracing the valley between his pecs. "Remember that for next time. This time, I suppose you'll have to do your best to keep quiet."

Claude gave a jerky nod before he fully understood what he was agreeing to. For a moment, he deceived himself into thinking that Byleth would go easy on him this first time. He swiftly realized that was not going to be the case.

"These lamps are nice," Byleth commented casually, gesturing to the crystal lamps suspended from the ceiling by rope-like chains. "Do you happen to know how sturdy they are?"

"Uh..." Claude swallowed hard, trying not to tense up under Byleth's touch. "The twins and I used to swing from them when we were kids. Broke a few of the globes, but the chains never came loose."

"Good to know," Byleth said softly. His nails raked across Claude's ass before he walked past, stooping to pick up the belt Claude had dropped while undressing. Byleth wrapped one end of the belt around his fist, eyes eating up Claude's exposed body once more before he gripped the end of the sash-belt on his opposite hand and started forward. Claude held his hands out, tamping down nerves as Byleth expertly wound the sash around his forearms in complex lines and layers.

"You know I'm not going to try and get away, right?" Claude asked, trying to make a joke as Byleth tied off the ends of the belt. His arms were roped together from elbow to wrist, not tight enough to lose circulation, but when he tugged there was no room to slip the loops. Byleth only smirked in response, seemingly pleased with Claude's tests against the bonds.

"I know you won't," Byleth said, voice light as he walked to his travel pack, set just inside the doorway. His eyes barely left Claude as he dipped a hand inside, searching for something. "But I think you have an idea of my tastes by now. And easy love-making on the bed isn't really one of them."

Claude swallowed hard as Byleth pulled a coil of rope out of his travel pack and walked with slow intention back to the center of the room. It was with both arousal and fear that he watched Byleth swing a loop of the rope around the wrought-iron chandelier that held the light-orb, giving it a light tug before tying it off. "Are we totally taking the bed off the table? It doesn't have to love-making just because it's on a bed."

"Are you nervous?" Byleth asked, calmly and coolly looping the rope through the silk wrapped around Claude's arms. "Because if I didn't know better, I'd say you're actually a little excited about this."

Claude didn't even have to look down to confirm Byleth's statement: he could feel how painfully erect he was even as Byleth slowly and surely stripped him of his movement. As the rope pulled taut through the loop of the chandelier, Claude's arms were drawn up above his head. He expected to be pulled up to his toes, but instead Byleth stopped just when Claude stood straight up, arms extended over his head.

"How much can you move?" Byleth asked, looping the rope once around his arm to hold it solidly. A tiny thrill ran through Claude as he let his weight drag on the rope, yet Byleth didn't move an inch. "The chains look secure, too. That's good."

Byleth carried the excess rope to the balcony, where hooks were installed to hold back the curtains during windy days. He looped the rope over itself a few times before tying it off, leaving Claude suspended and secured before walking back to the center of the room, looking Claude up and down as if inspecting a hunting trophy. He tugged on Claude's arms once, testing the support from the rope and chandelier before circling around behind him, hands trailing down Claude's back.

Claude shivered and laughed nervously. "So are you gonna get naked at some point too, or--" He gasped suddenly as questing fingers slid between his cheeks, one dry digit brushing roughly over the puckered entrance hidden within.

"Would that make you feel more comfortable?" Byleth asked, rubbing the hidden spot a little more firmly. "Sorry to say it, prince, but I don't take orders from you on these matters."

"N-no, I know," Claude said quickly, trying to keep his body from tensing--and failing remarkably. He drew a breath and forced himself to let it out slowly. "But if you tell me what you want, I'll make sure I give it to you."

Byleth hummed thoughtfully, the tip of a finger sinking inside of Claude and tugging lightly at the ring of muscle. "You don't have to _give_ me anything. I can _take_ what I want."

Claude shuddered at the truth of that statement. Fuck, but it sucked not being able to see Byleth standing behind him, to be unable to predict what he might do next. And it was no comfort at all that the bottle of oil sat far out of reach on the bed, rather than nearby for imminent use.

"But..." Byleth drew the word out just as he drew his nails down Claude's ribs, making him gasp and arch at the touch. "Before I get started, there is one thing you could do for me."

Claude nodded, trying to show his willingness. "Yeah. Just tell me. What is it?"

Byleth stepped out from behind Claude, circling around him to grab a pillow off a chair, dropping it to the floor and kicking it towards Claude’s feet. For an instant, Claude thought Byleth was going to grab the vial of scented oil, but he didn't. Instead, Byleth unhooked his sword from his belt and set it against the wall, out of reach, but still in sight. That helped set Claude a little at ease; he didn't think Byleth was completely unarmed, but that sword with its ability to turn into a whip was just slightly outside of Claude's comfort zone when it came to sex. Byleth grabbed Claude's chin and tipped it up, leaning in close enough that Claude could feel his breath in his ear.

"Don't scream."

Before Claude could say anything, Byleth grabbed his shoulders and spun him, making Claude fight to catch his breath before it turned into an unwitting shout. The rope tightened above him, that one-half turn drawing him up to his toes and making him unsteady on the balls of his feet. Before he could fully catch his breath, Byleth's hands were sliding down from his shoulders to his hips--No! Not just Byleth's hands. He felt the warm touch of Byleth's breath against the middle of his back. Byleth's hands moved to grasp Claude's ass, holding it open, nails digging into soft flesh just shy of causing pain. Claude shuddered once, then forced himself to hold still, though that was difficult as the inertia of his spin shifted his weight from foot to foot. He fought to center himself, but the way Byleth was holding him wasn't really helping. Just when he thought he had his balance, he felt something hot and wet lathe over his entrance.

A cry escaped Claude's mouth before he bit down _hard_ on his lower lip. There was a slight pause, as if to see if Claude was going to make any further noise, then the sensation was repeated, slower this time, with deliberate insistence. Claude felt his muscles straining with tension--to keep from moving, to keep from crying out--so it was with quite a bit of force that he felt Byleth's tongue thrust inside of him, wringing a tiny whimper from his throat, but no more. Claude twisted his hands to grasp the rope that held him suspended and leaned his head back, trying to lose himself in the sensations of Byleth's tongue determinedly working him open. He managed to glance over his shoulder once to see Byleth kneeling on the pillow he'd thrown down earlier. That was a bit of a shock--Claude had never been allowed a pillow while he was on his knees--but then he felt teeth tease that tight ring of muscle and Claude moaned, his eyes falling shut.

Claude didn't know what he'd do if Byleth actually hurt him--he could shout and alert the guard, but that would likely end in the poor guard's death, a termination of his contract with Byleth and, quite possibly, a lot less fun of an arrangement. Thankfully, Byleth kept his ministrations right on the pleasure-pain threshold that Claude could tolerate, sometimes thrusting deep to the wide part of his tongue, other times withdrawing to bite lightly on the insides of his cheeks. Just when he thought Byleth was nearly done, he felt a thick fingertip penetrate him, followed shortly by another--not deeply, no, but it was a stretch. And the stretch only got worse as Byleth tugged, widening the ring before slipping his tongue back in to tease the delicate insides. Claude whimpered and moaned--safe noises, ones that wouldn't prompt the guard to stick his head inside the room and ask questions. In retrospect, he really should have dismissed that guard way back at the beginning. A room guard was unnecessary while Byleth was under contract to protect him and it wasn't as if he hadn't anticipated what they were going to do.

Although, he could never have anticipated _this_.

Byleth seemed intent on trying to make Claude scream, switching up tactics suddenly, from hot, wet saliva, to blowing cool air over wet skin, to teeth, to teasing, to stretching, to soothing. The sensations were intense and erotic, but never quite enough to put him over the edge--just enough to keep him right there, frustrated and wanting a hell of a lot more.

Finally, Claude felt a firm slap on the side of his ass, earning a cry of surprise, but not a scream. Byleth stood up, hands ranging up Claude's sides before he let the rope spin back, helping Claude catch his balance so his weight wasn't entirely on the chandelier.

"You did good," Byleth told him, holding Claude's chin in his fingers, his chin still wet from the vigorous rim job. "Think you can keep to that same level of noise during the real thing?"

"The real--" Claude swallowed, his throat going dry. His eyes shifted to the oil on the bed. Byleth smirked as he followed his gaze. Claude nodded sharply, shakily. "Y-yeah. I can take it. Whatever you want."

"No screaming," Byleth reiterated, holding Claude's eyes.

"No screaming," Claude repeated, though he wasn't entirely sure it was a promise he could make. He was already painfully hard and he suspected even just a simple orgasm would make him scream, forget about whatever Byleth actually planned on doing with him. But it wasn't as if he were about to change his mind now--not even if the contract _wasn't_ riding on this. Byleth was finally going to properly fuck him, something he'd expected--wanted--almost from go. The fact that it was finally happening made the anticipation fizz like lightning under his skin.

Byleth picked up the bottle of oil, then kicked the pillow away from Claude's feet. Claude expected Byleth to step behind him, but instead he looped an arm around Claude's waist and pulled him close. Then, a devilish smirk on his face, Byleth simply commanded: "Up."

Claude was only stymied for a second before he understood. He looked up, wrapped the rope around each of his fists, then leaned back into Byleth's arm. Byleth braced him as Claude wrapped his legs around Byleth's waist, swaying only slightly by the suspending rope.

"You know, you are going to have to get undressed at some point," Claude said, because joking made him feel as if he had an ounce of control over the situation.

"Is that what you think?" Byleth asked, politely curious. Both arms circled Claude's back, the bottle of oil disappearing from sight. Claude tensed and gasped as he felt liquid running down in between his cheeks, as if Byleth had simply poured the bottle over his ass. Claude felt Byleth shift his weight, then warm, slippery fingers were sliding up and down his crack, spreading the oil around. As it warmed, the light scent of jasmine filled the room.

Claude shivered, shuddered, nearly lost his grip on the rope and for one fearful moment, thought he was going to fall. Byleth moved beneath him, supporting more of his weight.

"I have you," Byleth assured him, for once no hint of grim threat in his tone. "Use your legs, but relax your arms. I won't let you fall."

Claude tried to laugh. "That's easier said than done, you know."

Byleth shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm sure I can make you forget about holding on."

Claude chuckled. "Bet you can."

Claude's entrance had already been teased and stretched earlier, so it was no surprise that two fingers sank in with little to no resistance. The pressure felt warm and welcome, with Claude actually leaning back into it. Byleth's earlier teasing had been welcome, but it was merely a warm-up. This actually felt as if it were leading up to something.

Wow, was Claude hoping this all actually _was_ leading up to something! He almost could see Byleth leaving him unsatisfied and wanting, though he hoped the mercenary wasn't actually that cruel.

Another finger slipped inside, thrusting deeply and stretching the ring of muscle on each withdraw. Claude found himself pulsing in time to the rhythm Byleth set, his arms tensing and relaxing on the rope above his head in order to raise and lower himself. The fourth finger actually made him groan, but it didn't make him stop pressing down and back into that heady pressure.

"Remember not to scream," Byleth all but whispered.

"Wha--Ah!" Claude just barely caught his lower lip in his teeth as Byleth changed up the next thrust. Instead of four fingers, he used only two and seemed to pinpoint Claude's prostate with intense pressure. Claude moaned deep in his throat, unable to keep himself from pressing into that pressure, hips jerking out of control, head and eyes rolling back as he rode wave after wave of electric pleasure. It was almost too much--the pressure too hard, too steady, too sensitive--but if he tried to say any of that, he was certain he'd end up screaming, and that would end the game. So he rode it out, losing all sense of time as Byleth used every trick to try and make him scream: rubbing, rotating, whispering dirty things into Claude's ear. He choked on something that felt like a sob when Byleth finally stopped, looping both arms beneath Claude's ass to support his weight.

"Good job, my prince," Byleth said, amusement clear on his face. "I just need you to do one more thing for me. Are you with me right now?"

"Y-yes." Because he was too terrified to say no.

"Look up." Claude complied. "See how the rope is looped around the iron work? I need you to throw off at least one loop for me. Can you do that?"

Throwing off a loop would add a little slack to the rope, which would in turn make it easier for Claude to keep his balance when standing, but it would put more of Claude's weight on Byleth if he continued holding him. Knowing better than to ask questions, Claude narrowed his focus and swung his arms in an arc. It took a few tries, but eventually he managed to get a single loop of the rope free of the chandelier's iron prongs.

"Very good." Byleth gently set Claude down on his feet, hands trailing over Claude's stomach as Byleth moved to step up behind him. Claude shivered at the feeling of hot breath on the back of his neck. "What's our rule?"

"Don't screa--" Claude was prepared for it, which was the only reason he managed to cut himself off with a strangled cry: Byleth's teeth sank into the back of his shoulder, deep enough to draw blood. Byleth's hands curled around Claude's hips and yanked him back, rubbing his still-clothed erection against Claude's ass. Claude's knees went weak enough for his weight to pull against the loosened rope, though at least with his feet firmly planted on the ground, he kept his balance. Barely.

"Excellent," Byleth all but purred. His hands fell away and for one stomach-wrenching moment, Claude was afraid he really might just leave him unsatisfied after all. But no: Byleth was undoing the front of his pants, Claude could hear it in the way the laces were tugged free, in the rustle of clothing as Byleth pushed his pants down just as far as he usually did for a blow job. Claude tried glancing back over his shoulder, but a hand between his shoulder blades stopped him. "You ready?"

"Couldn't be any readier," Claude replied, certain of the truth of that statement. He was warmed up, stretched out and lubed up. Fuck, but he felt ready.

Byleth kicked Claude's feet out just slightly before grasping his hips and pulling him back. Claude gasped at the heat of the erection pressed flush between his cheeks. Byleth ground against him once, twice, the frustration growing, before he leaned back, one hand disappearing from Claude's hip. He buried his teeth in his lower lip as the thick, blunt head began to tunnel its way inside him.

"I almost want to take it too fast," Byleth admitted, grabbing a handful of Claude's hair and pulling it back, once he no longer had to use his hand to guide himself. "Want to slam into you, over and over, make you scream and beg for it until you can't take anymore."

Claude couldn't help but groan as Byleth sank into him. A groan was fine, wasn't it? He just couldn't be so loud that the door guard became worried for him, those were the rules...right?

"You're so tight, my little prince," Byleth crooned. "Are you not used to taking it this way? Are you usually the one doing the taking?"

A tug on his hair told Claude that was a question he was supposed to answer. "I like it both ways. The same way all the time is boring, don't you think?"

Byleth's laugh was low and dark. "No, not really. Though I may just have a strong preference."

"Different strokes for different--" Claude just barely stopped talking in time to choke back a scream. Byleth rocked forward, sliding in a few inches much faster than the pace he'd been going at. Claude moaned and leaned forward, his body pushing up on his toes almost without thinking about it first, all to give Byleth a little better access, to get a little more, a little harder, a little deeper. After that one quick slide, Byleth slowed down again, seemingly savoring every inch.

Claude was pretty certain he'd been thoroughly prepared, but now as the stretch continued to burn, he wondered if anything could have really prepared him for this. He gasped and grunted, pushing back almost as much as he shied away. It was inexorable, that slow, slow drag, the feeling of being filled up, the pressure building up inside of him like heat in a forge, like wind beneath the downbeat of a wyvern's wings. Just when he felt he couldn't take anymore, just before he could gasp out a plea, he felt Byleth's hips come flush against his ass. The endless push ended, the burn slowly eased. Claude drew breath after breath, holding each one as he willed his body to relax, to acclimate, to adjust.

The hand knotted in his hair unwound itself, petting Claude's shoulders, his neck, his back, though the hand on his hip held him still and steady, unyielding and unrelenting.

"You with me?"

"Couldn't be anywhere else," Claude joked.

Claude felt Byleth's huffed laugh through their connection. "You ready for me?"

Claude's breath caught. He twisted, trying to look back over his shoulder as much as possible. How could Byleth look as unflappable as ever while he was buried to the hilt inside of him?

"When you say no screaming," Claude began, speaking clearly and quickly. "You mean no noises that will make the guard come and interrupt us, right? Because it's not like he's going to come bursting in if he's relatively certain we're just having sex."

"Relatively certain sounds like a variable," Byleth commented, voice light. "I don't deal in variables."

Claude swallowed hard. Fuck, but it was difficult to think past the cock in his ass. "I can't promise to be quiet."

The hand tightened in his hair again, more erotic than painful, and drew him back until Byleth could speak into his ear: "Then make certain the guard knows you're having fun and not being murdered."

"With you? How would I tell the two apart?" Claude asked with a chuckle.

Byleth released his hair. Claude expected him to move, but then came a sharp, hot pain right against his ass. It took him a moment to figure out that Byleth had spanked him.

"Oh, I felt that." Byleth's voice was practically a coo. "Was that something you enjoyed, my prince?"

Words tangled on Claude's tongue, tripping over themselves to form an incoherent response.

"Don't worry." He could _hear_ the smirk on Byleth's face. "We'll explore that more fully when you're allowed to make more noise."

Oh, thank the gods, Claude thought, body relaxing infinitesimally. He didn't know if he would survive the night if he wasn't allowed to scream while getting fucked _and_ spanked. Just as he relaxed, leaning forward into the bonds holding him, Byleth rocked back an inch, then surged forward strongly, holding Claude's hips firmly in place. Claude cried out once before clamping his jaws shut. He wished he could have taken more pleasure reveling in the sensations than focusing on his vocalizations, though he was pretty sure that Byleth had set it up this way on purpose.

Byleth only moved by inches at first, but each thrust was hard, strong, reaching the deepest point inside of Claude. He twisted his hands in the rope above his head, shifting to widen his stance, balancing on the balls of his feet as his hips rose to meet the thrusts. Each withdrawal pulled out a little further before thrusting back in powerfully, though also very controlled. Claude didn't attempt to set his own rhythm, he merely went along for the ride, focusing only on keeping his moans and gasps as soft as possible.

Byleth never really changed the pace: the one he set from the beginning was continued throughout, even as the depth of the thrusts changed from shallow to nearly the entire length. He did tug Claude's hips back to meet each thrust and while it wasn't wild and frantic, it was by no means gentle or forgiving, either. Each snap of their hips echoed off the walls, forcing Claude to swallow down moan after moan every time. He would have marveled more at the control if he'd been allowed, but a very subtle change in the angle of penetration and Claude nearly lost his fight against screaming. He just barely managed to turn his sharp cry into an obvious moan at the last moment as colored lights burst on the backs of his eyelids.

I'm going to come, Claude realized, his moans rising in volume as his mind slowly checked out. I'm going to--I need--

Claude tugged on his restraints, somehow surprised to find them just as taut and unforgiving as at the beginning of all of this. Byleth was still pounding away at him, nailing that spot with a marksman's precision as Claude pulled ineffectively at his bonds.

The need to come was almost painful, precum dripping so freely it marked the carpet between his feet. But Byleth's hands weren't moving off Claude's hips and Claude's own hands were still tied above his head. He was rapidly losing the capacity for rational thought as his need took over. His hips tried to buck, to find their own rhythm, but Byleth held him too tightly. Claude felt pressure building in his stomach, in his balls, behind his eyes, until finally--

The sensation ripped through him like the release of a bowstring, his back arching, his knees giving out so that the only things keeping him upright were the bonds around his arms. Surge after surge of white-hot pleasure pulsed from his cock, coming untouched for the first time in his life. He might have made a joke about it if he wasn't certain he'd chipped a tooth as he ground his teeth in an effort to keep from screaming. He felt something wet slide down his chin before realizing he'd bitten through his lip. And through it all, Byleth was still slamming into him from behind, the motion unceasing for long moments afterward until finally, he yanked Claude's hips back one last time, buried to the hilt, body stilling, breath hot against Claude's neck.

Claude caught his breath slowly in the stillness that followed. He eased the cut in his lip with his tongue, he attempted to get his legs to take his weight, though the force of his orgasm wasn't so easily recovered. Byleth hardly made a sound the entire time, nor did he say anything as he finally withdrew. Claude felt wet heat run down his thigh as Byleth stepped back, clothes rustling as he adjusted them. Claude tried not to appear anxious as Byleth stepped away, out of sight. He really wanted to be let down, but he felt like if he asked for it, Byleth would make him wait longer for it.

Soft sounds of rustling cloth, something metal scraping something stone, footsteps padding lightly over soft, thick rugs.

Claude hissed sharply as something cool and wet pressed against the back of his knee, then dragged upwards, swiping away the mess he'd felt running down his leg. Byleth must have wet a handkerchief in the water ewer by the door and was using it to help clean Claude up. His ministrations were brief and not exactly gentle, but they did give Claude time to center himself, to find his balance on his feet and fully recover his breath. After only a few short minutes, Byleth stepped away again.

Vibrations down the rope from the chandelier, through the sash that wrapped Claude's arms, wrists to elbows. He couldn't hold back a slightly pained moan as the blood stirred in his arms, too long trapped by the bonds and his own weight. His hands were tingling and numb and he suspected he wasn't going to like it when sensation returned fully. Byleth drew near, looping the untied rope around his arm but holding it taut until he could loop an arm around Claude's waist, supporting him with his body before he let the rope go slack.

"Careful," Byleth warned as Claude slowly lowered his arms. He hissed at the ache in his shoulders from being held stationary so long. Byleth swiftly stripped away the sash, revealing bloodless lines beneath, where the cloth had cut into Claude's skin. Just as he suspected: the renewed feeling of sensation was not pleasant.

"You did good," Byleth said, helping ease Claude down on the end of the bed. "There aren't many who could stay that quiet for me."

"I was strongly incentivized," Claude said with a dry chuckle, massaging his wrists. He almost jumped when Byleth crouched down in front of him to meet his eyes.

"Next time." Those blue eyes pierced right through him. "I want to hear you."

Claude reached for his smirk and found it. "I'll dismiss the guard next time, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This fic updates monthly, but if you want to know when the next chapter is dropping follow me on Twitter @ShiroKabocha1


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude visits an old friend he left behind at the palace, then receives an invitation to dinner with his darling sister.

"Almost there," Claude said to himself, his voice echoing despite the whisper. The climb felt longer than it used to, the iron rungs just as warm to the touch as ever as Claude reached for one unseen handhold after another, ascending endlessly. The rock chimney was pitch black, giving no hint as to when the climb might end, but at least it didn’t feel as claustrophobic as the last time he'd climbed it--although, that could just be because he hadn't put back on all the weight he'd lost while he'd been disowned.

Claude paused for a minute, leaning back against the wall opposite the iron rungs and shook out his arms. Lucky for him, he'd never been afraid of close, dark spaces, or else this climb would be _really_ uncomfortable.

He'd waited as long as he felt he could before slipping away from the palace proper. With Azida monitoring his every move, either with human spies or animal ones, he hadn't felt the timing was right. But after a few days of touring Byleth around the palace, visiting all his favorite secret poisonous plant gardens, and even sitting through a family feast with his parents and all his aunts, Claude finally decided it had been long enough.

It was time to make the trek to the wyvern eyrie.

Of course, he couldn't just take the normal route there. That would be too obvious. Instead, he'd wrapped himself in a canvas smock and tore down almost a decade's worth of spiderwebs through the secret passageways out of his room. Before beginning his climb up the stone chimney, he'd set the web-covered smock on fire, then kicked it off the stone bridge he'd crossed to get to the chimney. He hoped that was enough to protect him from any little "passengers" Azida might have had waiting for him in the secret passageway. After checking his hair and clothing carefully for spiders and bugs, Claude had begun his climb.

It might as well have been an hour later, for as exhausted as Claude felt when his head finally hit the false-stone that covered the chimney within the eyrie. He cursed, checked his head for bleeding, then braced his back against the far wall and cautiously lifted the stone.

The chimney opened on a bare rock shelf right outside the eyrie, too small for wyverns to land on or take off from. It used to be a place where merchant-owned wyverns could drop off their supplies, things like feed, saddles, and armor, but over sixty years ago, a barrel of blaze-oil had been hidden among a merchant's wares and exploded within the eyrie, wounding many battle-trained wyverns, so now all wares were checked before the great stone bridge that led to the castle. It was less convenient, but it was safer. Since then, the stone chimney and the ledge it opened up to had been all but forgotten.

Claude climbed up onto the ledge, squinting against the bright sunlight as he fit the stone over the chimney so that no one could tell it had been moved. He checked his clothing for dirt and dust, fixed it as best he could, then strode into the eyrie with cheerful purpose, greeting the drake handlers by name if he knew them and stopping to chat with the ones he didn't recognize. He took a roundabout circuit through the stable-like cavern, as if he had no real destination in mind, but he doubted he fooled anyone.

Anyone who worked in the eyries knew Claude had only one true love in his life.

He broke into a sincere grin as he heard a familiar screech echo along the broad corridor: of course she knew he was here already. She had probably caught his scent the day he returned to the palace. His only regret was having to wait so long before coming to see her.

Claude removed a key from a chain on his wrist, unlocked a human-sized door built into a much larger paddock door, then slipped inside.

He was immediately greeted by a clawed wing that pinned him to the wall, ivory-white scales flashing in the light before serrated teeth were bared at him in a low, snarling growl.

"Hey there, Beyzha," Claude wheezed, chuckling at the enthusiastic greeting. "You miss me, girl? Or did you just miss the treats I bring you?"

He reached a hand into a woven basket hanging off his hip. Beyzha, his trained war-wyvern, continued to growl until he pulled out a fat, briny fish and tossed it to her. She had to scurry backwards in order to catch it, snapping it up in jaws meant to eat live goats whole, then lowering her face to the floor, a large amber eyeball searching Claude's frame in case he had anymore.

"I missed you too, little girl," Claude crooned, stepping closer. He rubbed the scales on her snout, scratched behind her horns, then examined her claws and spines. "Looks like they've been taking good care of you! Not that I expected any less." He winked at her. "But you look just as out of shape as I feel, Beyzha-baby. How do you feel about going for a ride?"

"Only if she can carry two passengers at once."

Claude jumped, his heart nearly leaping straight out of his mouth. He put a hand over his chest before turning around, expression sheepish. "Byleth! What a surprise. I thought you were sleeping when I snuck out that secret passage before sunrise this morning."

"I'm a light sleeper." Byleth lounged back against the door Claude had unlocked on his way in. As distracted as he'd been with his wyvern, he hadn't thought to lock it behind him. "Why sneak out on me? I thought my whole purpose was to protect you."

"Just wanted to see if I could," Claude said with a teasing grin. Byleth's responding glower had him rethinking that glib answer. "And, really, I was afraid Azida might have spies watching my room. I wanted to make sure the way was clear before bringing you here."

"I saw the fire you lit across the stone bridge," Byleth explained. "I took similar precautions."

"Okay, but how did you follow me up the chimney without me hearing you?" Claude asked, tossing Beyzha another fish to distract her. "That tunnel makes breathing echo, forget about actual noise."

"I waited until you got to the top and slipped out," Byleth replied, shrugging easily. "It's not that long of a climb."

Claude rolled his eyes at the dig: he was getting back in shape now that he had the palace kitchens and the palace training yards at his disposal. Being able to eat was a huge help.

"Well, now that you're here, you might as well meet Beyzha." Claude drew Byleth forward by the hand, keeping their fingers laced as Beyzha craned her head forward, sniffing at their interlocked hands. "Beyzha, this is Byleth. He's a friend."

"Does she understand that?" Byleth asked. His tone wasn't skeptical, more like he was interested.

"She understands the word friend," Claude replied, sneaking another fish out of his woven basket. "She understands food better." He slapped the fish into Byleth's palm. "Toss it to her and she'll like you."

Byleth shrugged and tossed the fish before wiping his hand on a handkerchief. Claude couldn't help but grin as Beyzha flipped the fish in the air a few times before snapping her jaws shut on it one final time. He stroked her snout again, reveling the feel of her hot breath on his skin.

"Have you ridden a wyvern before?" Claude asked. "I know Fodlan does have some wyvern troops, but those teeny drakes don't have anything on an Almyran bred war-wyvern."

Byleth chuckled. "I've ridden a few, but not many. I have some concerns about you going where I can't follow, though."

"Oh, I was only planning on taking a spin around the canyon," Claude admitted. He opened a fireproof door set like a closet inside Beyzha's paddock and started pulling out her riding gear. "It's been too long since I've flown, I'm starting to feel gravity weighing me down. I just need a quick flight to feel normal again."

"Can she take two riders?" Byleth pressed insistently.

Claude considered the question as he buckled Beyzha's headgear on. "We're neither of us armored, so that lightens the load. And we're not flying into battle, so I can leave off her war gear. I think she can take both of us on a short flight. Only one problem, though."

"And that is?"

Claude grinned. "Her saddle's only made for one, so you'll have to hang on tight."

Byleth huffed a laugh. "That was my intention from the start."

In short order, Beyzha was suited up for flight. Claude grabbed a flare from the closet, walked it to the vents that opened up to the outside, lit the flare, then tossed it out. He ran to Beyzha's side and mounted up, setting his boots in the stirrups securely before offering a hand down to Byleth. Byleth held his sword close to his side so it didn't smack Beyzha's wings, then settled into the saddle behind Claude. It was a tight fit--not as tight as it would have been in battle armor, but still: Claude could feel every breath Byleth drew. One arm was looped around Claude's waist, the other rested atop the hilt of his sword.

Then they waited.

"What does the flare do?" Byleth asked after a moment of silence, broken only by Beyzha's excited snuffles.

"Someone in the watchtower will see it and know which paddock to open," Claude explained, almost giddy with excitement. He looped the thick leather of Beyzha's reins around both fists and leaned forward in his seat. "Any minute now..."

The sound of falling rock preceded any actual movement in the far wall. The wall slid down, revealing nothing but endless blue sky. Claude didn't have much time to consider that, however, because Beyzha screamed as she surged forward in an uncoordinated scramble, lunging for the open air.

Claude locked his legs around the saddle, bracing himself for the next part. He barely had time to shout: "Hang on!" as Beyzha leapt straight off the side of the cliff. At first, it was just a headlong plummet, with Claude peering down into the near-endless ravine that separated the palace from the capital city. Then, with a casual lethargy, Beyzha angled her wings, caught the wind, and went into a spiraling glide.

For long, breathless moments, it seemed they might descend endlessly into the looming darkness. But then Beyzha screamed again in pure joy and surged her wings in a powerful downbeat. She caught an updraft, and then they soared.

Claude sucked in a breath of cold mountain air and harsh sunlight, closing his eyes in order to enjoy the rush of wind against his face. Too long. It had been far too long since he'd flown. He missed the rush, he missed the wind in his hair, he missed the thrill. And even though he knew Beyzha must have been allowed out for controlled flights, just to keep her muscles from deteriorating, it seemed she had missed it, too. He gave her her head and let her control their journey. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to go; might as well simply enjoy it.

Beyzha soared over the canyon, wings outstretched as wide as they could go as she glided upon an updraft. The way she was watching the ground, Claude half expected her to go into a dive, but then she surged upwards, dragging them through a cloud that left them damp afterwards. Claude laughed, leaning low over the saddle to pat Beyzha's scales. Byleth didn't make a sound, but he was hanging on rather tight. Which was good, because Beyzha decided to fly a few loops after that. Before she could get too tired, Claude took over, tugging lightly on the reins and putting his heels into her side. He straightened out her path and flew along the length of the ravine, a thick, dark tendril far below them separating two gray masses of mountainous land. The air up here was thin, but gentle, sliding past with barely a ruffle in Claude's hair or clothing.

When Byleth shifted, his warm breath curling over Claude's ear, he expected a complaint. He didn't expect a compliment. "It seems you really are quite skilled."

Claude laughed. "Beyzha is the one who's skilled. I'm just the one who can shout commands and fire the bow. In combat, Beyzha is like an extension of my body. I barely have to think of what I want her to do before she just does it."

"Then why didn't you use her to help you fight in the arena to decide the heir of Almyra?" Byleth asked. "Was it not allowed?"

"Oh, it was allowed." Claude patted Beyzha's side. "But it was also allowed for my siblings to hurt her, or even kill her. Maybe the twins wouldn't have managed it, but Tahj could have. Would have. I'd never have forgiven myself if Beyzha got killed for something as stupid as an inheritance. Battle is one thing, duels are another."

"I see." Byleth's tone revealed nothing and Claude didn't want to chance the look back. He could see Byleth any time; it might be another month or so before he could fly like this. "Why wait this long before going out for a flight? You seem...different. Relaxed, maybe."

Claude laughed heartily. "I'm always relaxed!"

He sensed Byleth's slow head shake more than he saw it. "You put on a good show. Like a juggler tossing knives and torches into the air and catching them. The juggler smiles, but you know he's uneasy: one wrong move and he'll lose a hand, or go up in flames."

"That's...a surprisingly good analogy," Claude admitted. "Fine. I'm always plotting, that's not a secret. From you, anyway. But up here, with Beyzha, everything seems just so...small." Claude stared out over the horizon, over the forests, lakes, cities, and farms. "I'm not just good at flying, I love flying. Up here, everything just seems to make sense."

Byleth hummed, the vibrations transferring from his chest into Claude's back. "Then why wait so long before taking your wyvern out? Why not go see her right away?"

Claude grimaced. "Because no matter what, word will get back to Azida. It doesn't matter who I bribe or how many little birdies I shoot out of the sky, Azida will know that I visited Beyzha. And if I ran right to her the second I got back into the palace--"

"--She would have known how important Beyzha is to you," Byleth finished. Claude nodded. "But you protected Beyzha from the tournament and Azida has known you for as long as you've known here. Surely she suspects?"

"Well, that's the thing with summoners." Claude shrugged. "She has creatures of her own that she uses to win her battles for her, or do her spying, or protect her when she's vulnerable. She can't afford to be emotionally invested in every single one of them: creatures die, it's just the nature of the beast. If I can nudge her into believing that Beyzha is just a tool--a valuable tool, but a tool nonetheless--then maybe I can keep her from targeting Beyzha as a weak spot."

Byleth was silent for a while. Then: "Is Beyzha a weak spot?"

Claude grimaced, glad Byleth couldn't see it. "The weakest."

They didn't speak again after that. The joy had been somewhat spoiled for Claude as he remembered what a vulnerability Beyzha was. But she'd survived this long while he'd been out of the palace, so gods all willing, she'd remain safe while he got Azida out of the way. He just needed an opportunity to rifle through Azida's personal expenses and prove she'd stolen money somehow in order to pay for her temple. Misappropriation of funds was serious, even for princesses.

Beyzha's wind began to flag, so Claude guided her back down to the ledge that was her paddock within the eyrie. He took the time to clean away any scraps of leather that had gotten pinched off the saddle by her sharp-edged scales, then rubbed the corners of her mouth where the bit had laid. He patted her snout one final time, then tossed the remainder of the fish he'd brought into her trough. She gobbled them up like she was bobbing for apples as he stepped outside the paddock and locked up behind him, Byleth his ever-present shadow.

"So what are we waiting for next?" Byleth asked, keeping his voice low. "Do you have a move, or are you just waiting to react to one?"

"Right now, I'm biding my time," Claude said, barely moving his mouth as he spoke, just in case anyone nearby was a lip reader. He smiled and waved at a drake handler he recognized before leading the way back to the palace along more common paths than the one he'd taken to get there. "I need to teach you some of the secret backways, so if I'm tied up, you'll be able to go and search for me. What we need is in the royal accounts, but getting in there isn't easy. Especially not now while Azida is training to take over as the next treasurer of royal funds."

"I thought the twins were working with the treasury?"

"No, they were just glorified tax collectors," Claude explained. "Azida is going to be the person in charge of dispersing funds to the army, the temples, war aid and relief, palace servants, the city guilds and, of course, royal allowances."

"She holds your purse strings," Byleth observed drily.

"Not yet, but the reality isn't much better." Claude grinned ruefully. "Her mother was the last royal treasurer and she's the one training Azida to take over. Not that Azida was taking it all that seriously, last I heard. She still has her eye on the throne. But if she hears I've taken an interest in the treasury, you can bet she'll suddenly have her nose in everything I try to look at."

"Are there any secret passages into the treasury office?" Byleth asked.

"No, unfortunately, the palace's spending records are as tightly guarded as the treasury itself." Claude rolled his eyes. "Can't have all the little people knowing that their taxes pay for highly skilled mages to grow plants from Brigid all year long, or for expensive diamond-powder creams to protect fair Dagdan skin from the sun. If you asked the average Almyran what our biggest annual expense is, they'd probably say the army, but I bet if you could actually get a look at the actual spending, you'd see the biggest expense is keeping the king's wives happy."

"Are you saying it would be any different if you were king?" Byleth asked archly.

"Oh, I dunno." Claude smirked. "How expensive are you to keep?"

Byleth cast a cool sidelong look over at him. "More than the king of Almyra can afford."

Claude laughed. "Ouch. Anyway, yes, we are in a holding pattern right now. Once I find an angle, we'll sneak inside the treasury office and figure out which records pertain to Azida's spending on that temple of hers. And then maybe we'll take a trip to the temple, just to make sure it's everything she says it is. Because if those records say she bought ageha marble when in fact it's just plain old asagi marble, we'll have her."

"Is there a difference?" Byleth asked. "Marble is marble."

Claude clicked his tongue. "Ah, my friend, you have so much to learn. Of course marble is marble, just as stone is just stone. But ageha marble is much more expensive, and that makes it better."

"I'm beginning to rethink my career as a mercenary," Byleth said, sans inflection. "I'm going to buy cheap fruit from merchants and change the name a little to resell it at a higher price to stupid royals."

"I know you think you're joking, but there are merchants who make their livelihood that way." Claude dismissed the guard outside his door, who seemed confused to learn that Claude and Byleth had even left the room. She didn't say anything, though--she merely bowed and walked away. Claude locked the door behind them, knowing it served little to no protection from any real threats, but making the gesture anyway because it was expected. "Alright, so today you got a little glimpse of what the secret passages here are like. For that knowledge to really be effective, we need to--"

Claude grunted as he walked directly into Byleth's outstretched arm. It felt like walking into a stone banister. Claude rubbed his stomach, pouting at Byleth.

"What is it?"

Byleth pointed to the low sitting room table. "That wasn't here when I left."

A silver tea service had been set on his parlor table, complete with pastries topped with slivered nuts, sugar and cinnamon. In front of the tea service was a little scroll sealed with wax, the imprinted sigil was one of a temple. Azida's temple, in fact.

"Well, that's at least one thing I was waiting for," Claude said, reaching into his pocket to remove a pair of servant's gloves. "Be a dear and go open the balcony doors, won't you?"

Byleth followed orders without taking his eyes off the tea service. Gloves tugged on tight, Claude lifted the entire tray and carried it out to the balcony. Byleth stood at his shoulder as he set the silver tray on the wide, flat railing and picked up the tiny scroll.

"Look away and hold your breath," Claude advised, following his same advice as he held the scroll downwind before popping the seal. As he expected, a fine dust sprinkled out from beneath the seal. Claude flipped the seal up, showing Byleth an air bubble in the wax where Azida had hid some sort of poison. "That's probably not all of it, though. She's probably hidden poison throughout the tea and snacks, too."

"Delightful," Byleth said flatly. "How did she get it past the guard?"

"Why would a guard stop a princess from leaving food for her brother?" Claude retorted. "It's not like she advertised that she was trying to poison me. Besides, I doubt it was anything serious. It was probably just a little something to irritate the stomach and bowels."

"Perhaps we should go back to taking our meals in the city," Byleth suggested.

"Ugh. I don't want to make that trek every day," Claude returned, his eyes skimming Azida's note. "Besides, I've been cordially invited to dinner in Azida's parlor."

Byleth stared in silence for a minute before asking: "How safe is that, considering she just tried to poison you in your own parlor?"

Claude laughed, letting the scroll roll up on itself. "Oh, a little powder in a seal is practically a joke between us. It would have been my own fault if I'd let her poison me like that." Claude set the scroll down on the tray, weighting it beneath the edge of a saucer. "Besides, this works out. I have a way for you to sneak into the records room while I keep Azida occupied over tea. This is a good thing: we haven't started any schemes yet, so she won't know what we're planning."

"Unless she has a spy on us," Byleth pointed out. "Or if she set a spider to tail one of us."

"The wind is too strong for small birds," Claude pointed out, waving a hand over the ravine. "And we can check ourselves for spiders before we leave the room. Besides, she's not going to poison me at a dinner she publicly invited me to. That's just a tad too obvious."

"So when are we meeting her?" Byleth asked.

Claude chuckled and shook his head. " _We_ aren't going. The note was very specific: only I'm invited."

Byleth's eyes narrowed. "I don't like it. Even if she's not a warrior, she's a mage with a dangerous menagerie and a known poisoner. And you want to go alone?"

"Yes." Claude grinned. "Because Azida is currently underestimating you, making this the perfect opportunity for you to sneak into the treasury office and get the records we need. Come on. I'll tell you the plan inside."

Claude flipped the entire tea service over the edge of the railing and into the canyon below. Before following Byleth back inside his rooms, he removed each glove carefully, tossing first one, then the other down the ravine. The wind caught them, making them flutter like odd birds before they tumbled into the canyon after the tea service.

~*~^~*~

"Knock knock, Sis!" Claude called through the gauze-draped doorway of Azida's sitting room.

"Ah, Claude." Azida turned away from the table of food and drinks, holding her arms out in welcome, a fixed smile on her face. "My only brother worth holding a conversation with. Please, come in."

Claude crossed the room, cautiously leaning into Azida's offered hug. She kissed his cheek and he returned the favor, knowing it had to make her at least as uncomfortable as it made him. The was the trouble going head-to-head with another poisoner: you knew all the possible ways a poison could be introduced into your body.

"Please, have a seat." Azida gestured gracefully to the pillow across from the table of food. "It has been far too long since we caught up."

"It surely has." Claude remained standing. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of bringing a few of my own things. I would be a poor guest if I didn't bring something, wouldn't I?"

"Ah, of course." Azida's smile was knowing, though her tone was congenial. "Go right ahead."

Claude clapped his hands and a line of servants trooped in, most carrying platters of food, one carrying a very expensive bottle of wine, one carrying a satin pillow with a gift atop it, and the final one carrying a gold-colored sitting pillow. That one kicked the white pillow away from Claude's place at the table and set the golden one down in its place. Claude didn't think it likely that Azida had placed anything...unsavory inside the pillow, but he knew she had several venomous albino spiders that could walk across a white pillow without being seen. There weren't any golden spiders, though, so any critter that tried to make its way across this pillow would be seen well in advance.

"The wine is from my mother's family back in Fodlan," Claude explained, keeping Azida's attention distracted from the pillow exchange. "It's an excellent year, harvested from when the grapes were at the peak of flavor, then aged in crafted barrels of Albinean oak and Galataen hickory. And this is a little something I picked up for you."

The servant with the gift-pillow dropped to a knee, holding the pillow above her head so that Azida could see the gift. It was a jeweled headband with the layered veils Azida favored, the type that shimmered different colors depending on the light. The jewels, however, weren't all they seemed: if they became too warm, the crystal shells would melt and a highly flammable oil would leak out into the wearer's hair. Just walking too close to a torch or a tree of candles would cause the oil to burst into flame. It was a bit childish, but Claude didn't expect Azida to actually wear it: he merely wanted her to focus on it while he set up his own assurances.

"Quite lovely," Azida observed. Her dark eyes sparkled as she met Claude's grin. "Why not set the gift over there, by the window? I'd like to see the gems sparkle when the moon hits them."

The servant bowed, then set the entire pillow on a small table by the window, as indicated. Placing the crown in such a cool spot indicated she had already guessed the trick. That was fine, though. Claude had plenty of others.

"Will you join me?" Azida asked, gesturing to the table once the servants had left. "I have been looking forward to hearing of your travels. And of your foreign paramour."

"Certainly." Claude dropped onto his pillow, folding his legs before him. If Azida noticed the pillow swap, she said nothing. Instead, she folded her knees neatly upon her own pillow and poured them each a cup of tea, then added a little something to each cup from a golden flask. "Have you tried this new honey-flavored liquor from Dagda? Tahj's mother introduced it to me. It's very sweet with a mellow flavor. I find it lovely in a good tart tea."

"I haven't tried it yet." Claude kept the smile fixed on his face as Azida very deliberately handed him a teacup. He swirled the tea once, inhaling the aroma before lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip. No, he didn't expect Azida to poison him here and now.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't.

"Mmm!" Claude hummed his approval at the tea. "Delicious. Now, my dearest sister, what would you like to know about living like a poor wastrel in our great kingdom?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I already know far too much what that's like," Azida said, scarcely deigning to look up as white-and-blue striped kitten-like animal gamboled out from under the table and climbed into her lap. She smiled fondly at it, then fed it a spiced meatball from a platter. It ate surprisingly neatly, without getting a speck of sauce on her white silk dress.

"Is that a baby frostfur saber?" Claude asked, fixing his expression into one of amusement. "Perhaps you have better stories to tell, dear Azida. I see your colorful menagerie has grown quite a bit since the last time I was here."

The room was deceptively quiet and neat for as many animals as it actually held. Aside from the usual creatures on Azida's person (her signet spider, her sleeping phoenix and her golden snake currently coiled around her upper arm), there were birds in all four corners of the room, most of them asleep owing to the late hour, but an owl with ink-black feathers and silver eyes watched them intently from a perch near the balcony. The saber cub was one of four, though the others were snuggled sleepily in a pile of pillows, round tummies giving evidence to a recent feeding. A family of tiny monkeys clung to the silk drapes between the parlor and the bedroom, staring at the food on the table with sullen, sulky eyes. And an armored critter, like a cross between a turtle and an iguana, slept in front of a brazier of hot coals. Claude would have thought it a strangely shaped rock if it hadn't yawned and scratched its neck with a clawed hind foot before curling up into a ball again. Where did Azida even find these things?

"Oh, just a few of my lost souls, taking comfort in the mercy of the gods," Azida preached, tickling the frostfur cub's belly. "These just take a bit more care than others. Once they have been strengthened by prayer, I expect they will leave this place."

Leave here and go wherever summoners keep their brood, Claude thought, maintaining his smile. "Ah, of course. And how is your little ugly duckling these days?"

Azida pouted at him before stroking the baby phoenix's breast feathers. "Sari is still quite melancholy over the loss of her parents. I've told you phoenixes have long memories."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

"You know, you really should have stopped in at my temple during your exile," Azida said, moving the cub out of her lap to select some flatbread from a dish. "You would have found me sympathetic to your plight. It was just as impossible for me to win the successor tournament as it was for you."

"Please," Claude snorted, spooning olives onto his plate. "Not only could you have won that tournament, you could have destroyed the rest of us. And Father as well, if you'd cared to challenge him."

"Well, yes," Azida admitted, without a trace of modesty. "But winning wouldn't have won me the throne. At least, not in a way the people of Almyra would accept." She gave a theatrical sigh. "It's much harder to rule as a woman than it is to rule as a man."

"You won't get an argument from me," Claude replied. "I know it's different, but you still found a way to fight. I mean, you are second-in-line, even for declining to fight."

"Yes," Azida said slowly, drawing the word out. "And it is that which I wished to discuss with you. More than anyone, you understand that challenge that Tahj--that Shandahla--represents, in regards to climbing any higher."

"Auntie Shandahla always has had high expectations," Claude agreed. "And aspirations. You know what I heard? That she's not even planning to go with father into retirement. She wants to stay here at least until Tahj has his harem up and running."

"She really is quite meddlesome," Azida said, nodding. "A proper Almyran mother knows when to let her child fight their own battles. It seems Fodlan mothers know this as well." She inclined her head graciously to Claude, who accepted the acknowledgment by raising his teacup in a toast. "But she is hardly the first foreigner to have trouble adjusting to life in Almyra. I believe that a change of heart might make her reconsider her plans and join Father and our mothers into retirement."

"So that's the angle, is it?" Claude smirked. "Instead of going after Tahj, you'll go after Auntie Shandahla?"

"Oh my, Claude, you seem to be under the impression that I'm plotting something." Azida placed a hand over her heart as if shocked. "I am merely stating that court life isn't so soft here as it was back in Dagda, and that Father takes very good care of his wives."

Claude swirled the tea in his cup--Azida's cup, really, as he'd switched them when she wasn't looking. "Oh, right. Of course. That's what I thought you meant." He leaned over the table, grinning crookedly. "But what's the scheme?"

"Scheme?" Azida repeated, a surprised inflection in her voice. "No scheme, dear brother. I have my temple, I have my creatures, I am the head of all enchantments over the palace and I am learning the duties of the head palace treasurer. What need do I have for schemes?"

"Sure, sure, that's all great." Claude popped the cork out of the wine he'd brought and poured it into two glasses. He leaned even closer and lowered his voice as he placed Azida's wine glass in front of her. "But what do you need me to do?"

"Interesting." Azida tapped her scarlet painted lips. "You wish to form an alliance with me, dear brother?"

"Why not?" Claude asked with a wink. "As beautiful and intelligent as we are, it would be a crime not to team up together, wouldn’t it?"

Azida's lips quirked slightly into a smug smile just before she whistled, soft and low. Claude started to ask "What?" before a surprisingly heavy weight landed on his shoulder. He froze, eyes falling closed as he remembered the black owl sitting on the perch just behind him.

"Claude, you remember Edwin, don't you?"

"I do," he said carefully.

"You remember he dislikes sudden movements?"

"I recall that about him, yes."

"And tell me." She paused. With his eyes closed, Claude could only imagine she took a sip of her drink. "How accurate is a one-eyed archer?"

"Not terribly."

"Good." He could only imagine her triumphant grin. Edwin was only a speckled nightwing owl, with no magic powers or secrets, but he was incredibly well trained. He'd seen this owl pluck out the eyes of captured spies just by a wave of Azida's fingertips. He never should have turned his back on this stupid bird. "I need your entire attention on this matter, Claude."

"I am listening intently."

"I need you to do nothing." She paused for effect. "Do you hear me, Claude? Nothing."

"Nothing," Claude repeated, doing his best not to flinch as the owl dug its considerable talons into his shoulder. He'd come dressed as a prince in silks and cotton: it was doing nothing to protect his skin.

"While I admit it was amusing watching you play the twins off each other in the city, I won't tolerate such foolery here in the palace." Claude squinted his eyes just open, watching as Azida settled back on her pillow, waving a toy above the frostfur cub's head to make it chase and pounce. "I have no idea if your intent was simply to get back into Father's good graces, or if you actually intend to try for the throne, but I'm going to have to insist that you cease any and all schemes, plots and plans you or your paramour might have in play. Do I make myself perfectly clear, my dear brother?"

"Yes, perfectly." Claude hadn't moved an inch since Edwin had settled on his shoulder. His body was beginning to ache from its position of half-leaning over the table of food.

"Good," Azida said simply. Through his lashes, he just caught the tiniest flicker of movement from Azida's fingertips. He felt the talons in his shoulder shift, as if the bird was readjusting its perch. "You may sit back now. Edwin will be a little darling. For now."

Though he knew the bird was highly trained, Claude still eased back slowly and carefully until he sat upon his pillow once more. Edwin didn't move, aside from ruffling his feathers with an ominous silence. He let his breath out slowly and attempted to ignore the bird as he reached for his plate of food.

"So does this mean you have your own little scheme in play, sister dear?" Claude asked, his motions stilted by the bird's weight on his shoulder.

"I have no notion of what you mean," Azida said airily. She smoothed her dress, then picked up her wine glass, taking a long sip. "Ah, that is quite lovely. This is from your mother's lands?"

"Just a province her family rules, I think," Claude replied. His wine glass was just out of reach and he feared moving too much or risk the bird savaging him. "Is that all you invited me to dinner for? To ward me off the throne?" He smirked, though he was sure it didn't look nearly as cocksure as usual, not with that bird's razor-sharp beak inches from his eye. "I must have you scared if you're resorting to intimidation tactics."

"I am neither scared nor worried that you will ever succeed in a grab for power," Azida said coolly, finishing the wine in her glass and pouring herself another. "The only thing I worry about is you messing something up with either Tahj or Shandahla. And I won't stand for it." She grinned over the glass of red wine. "They are my beloved family, after all."

"Sure, just as much as your 'poor lost souls' are, I'm sure," Claude replied. He shifted in his seat, trying to find an angle that would let him grab his wine. "Well then, now that we've gotten the formalities and threats out of the way, should we make some small talk?"

"Perhaps." Azida gave a put-upon sigh. "Do tell me about this lover of yours. He seems very...intense. Is he a famous Fodlan warrior?"

"A famous warrior? From Fodlan?" Claude asked skeptically, playing heavily on the prejudice of Almyran perceptions of "fame" and "war." With half of his heritage coming from Fodlan, Claude had never bought into the "cowardly, peace-lover" stereotype that prevailed in Almyra, but even as intelligent as Azida was, she was still a pure-blooded Almyran who favored death over defeat. Her answering smirk as all Claude needed to sell the lie. "I mean, maybe he saw action in a border skirmish among the three kingdoms, but he's never seen fighting like those of us who've served at the throat."

"Here here." Azida toasted with her wine, nearly finishing the glass. She swirled the remainder, tipping her head as if thinking. "But you know, Claude, while it's perfectly acceptable for you to bed a man, you know what the troops will be saying about you with someone like that."

"Someone like what, exactly?" Claude asked. "A foreigner? A warrior?"

"Why, someone who could so easily beat you at a contest of arms," Azida laughed as she tossed a lock of inky black hair over her shoulder. "Your image would be better suited if you took a slighter male as your lover. Someone whom you obviously bed, instead of someone who is obviously bedding _you_."

"Well, since I'm apparently never going to be king, I can't see how my image matters," Claude replied as Azida drained her glass of wine.

"Oh, my darling brother," Azida said in an overly saccharine voice. "Image always matters."

"Aw." Claude grinned. "You miss the twins already, don't you? Are you just sour because there's no one else here to exchange makeup tips with?"

Claude finally managed to reach out for his glass of wine without disturbing the owl on his shoulder too much. Just before his fingers touched the stem of the glass, Azida snatched it away, giving him a superior smile as she drew a sip.

"This wine really is quite stunning," she said, smiling over the rim.

Claude met her smile with one of his own. "I'm glad you like it."

~*~^~*~

Claude closed the door of his room behind him with a firm click before spinning around and kicking a floor pillow, sending it skidding across the polished floor until it hit the far wall. He scowled and folded his arms over his chest, lifting one thumb to bite anxiously at his nail. Dinner with his sister had not gone well at all. If he ever caught Edwin out on a hunt, he'd shoot that stupid black bird right of the sky and feed it to Beyzha as a treat.

Too bad Azida only ever fed him in her rooms.

A knock on the door had Claude spinning on his heel and snatching up his golden bow, propped near the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me."

Claude let out a breath. "It's open."

Byleth stepped inside, eye quick to snap to the bow in Claude's hand even as he set it down. "Did dinner not go according to plan?"

Claude snorted. "In a way, it did. It was only supposed to serve as a distraction, after all. But in another way, it went really, really bad."

"She poison you?" Byleth asked, cutting straight to the point.

"No." Claude paused. "I don't think so, anyway. I ate and drank all the same things she did and even switched our teacups. I was watching her little antivenom snake and it never bit her, so I should be safe." Claude let out a frustrated breath and tried to shake his bad mood. "Anyway, what did you find? Anything good?"

"I have no idea what I found," Byleth admitted, setting a box down on Claude's low parlor table. "The only thing of value I learned today is that killing someone in a fair duel is a far cry easier than deciphering an accountant's scrawl."

"You just...walked out of the treasury accounting room with this?" Claude set the lid of the box aside and started rifling through pages and pages of notes and numbers. He gave a low whistle: Byleth had to have stolen almost twenty years of accounting here.

"The candles worked just as you said they would." Claude had bribed a servant to switch the hallway candles with ones made by an alchemist he knew: they would burn clean at first, then they would release a mild toxin into the air that irritated the bowels. Claude had cautioned Byleth to wear a scarf over his face when entering and exiting the accounts room. The candles must have driven the guards and scribes off the room for Byleth to have spent so long inside it. "I found the family's accounts but I didn't have time for a thorough search, especially since the documents are all written in some sort of code. I grabbed what I thought was Azida's, but I could have missed something."

"No, this looks good," Claude murmured, already rifling through the pages. "We need to--Wait, no. Let's...let's go to the bedroom. We can spread out in there."

Claude closed the box, then hefted it up. Byleth had handled it so easily, he was surprised by the weight at first. He set it down in the middle of the bed, then climbed up onto it, using the increased space to place the parchments into piles.

"It's not really code, it's a shorthand," Claude explained, paging through the box rapidly. "Here, look. This little sketch of a wing? It represents expenses relating to wyverns. That's my biggest expenditure: paying for Beyzha's upkeep and training. Azida has a few creatures in the eyrie, too, but none as big as Beyzha."

"If Azida is the one taking over the treasury and accounting, then how do you know so much about scribe shorthand?" Byleth asked, settling onto the bed just behind Claude.

"Because I'm nosy and have a penchant for getting into places I'm not allowed to be," Claude replied, grinning as he tossed a stack of pages aside. He didn't care about the costs of Azida's little pets, nor her gardens around the palace. He needed the financials on her temple. "I accidentally got locked inside the treasury office overnight once after I snuck in. You'd be surprised what you can learn when you have no other way to spend your time."

"Did you get caught?" Byleth asked.

Claude snorted. "That time, I did. I fell asleep while reading a stack of expenses detailing upkeep of the cavalry. The morning scribes came in and found me using the report as a pillow in the center of the room."

"You had strange interests as a child," Byleth pointed out, his hand in the middle of Claude's back.

Wow, did Claude hope Byleth didn't want a payment just then: not that he'd object, he just didn't want to have to stop sorting Azida's accounts until he found something. His fury at being made helpless by a stupid bird fueled his search.

"I think I only snuck in on a dare," Claude explained. "Probably from Cori and Tori. We were trying to find more secret passages and were certain one opened up into that room, but we were wrong. I checked every inch and didn't find--Here! This one." Claude set the parchment in its own pile. "That's an expense report for the altars she had hand-carved for her temple's entryway. We must be getting close."

"Thrilling," Byleth said, his tone bored. He stretched out along the top of the bed, leaning on an elbow as he kicked his boots off. "If you don't need me for this, I might go to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah." Claude waved a hand without looking up from the report he was skimming. "You go ahead. I'm not going anywhere for a while."

Most people were probably like Byleth: easily bored by monotonous work. But to Claude, this was a puzzle just begging to be solved. He tried to keep everything roughly in the same order in which he pulled it out the box, but that system quickly broke down. He sorted every page into one of three piles: relevant, not relevant, might be relevant. The most disheartening documents were the ones detailing donations nobles and various religious groups had sent to Azida in order to assist with her temple. That wasn't illegal and she'd collected quite a bit that way. But, if she misrepresented even a single donated copper, she'd have to answer to every single organization that had contributed to her temple. If Claude could prove fraud, she'd be finished as a politician as well as an heir. Lying to the crown was one thing: it was another to lie to the gods.

Though Azida had really never been the overly pious type. She only played that for her supplicants. The only person Azida worshiped was Azida.

It was hours later when Claude finally discovered the itemized list of construction materials. He began going through it line by line, making his own notes to track expenditures. At the end of the list, he was grinning madly: Azida's expenses didn't match her allowance or her donations. By a lot.

"Byleth, look." Claude nudged Byleth with his elbow. "Look, I found it."

Byleth's eyes opened the instant Claude spoke, but they spoke more of violence than understanding.

"Look here." Too excited to be deterred, Claude held up the list of building materials. "Even if this list is one hundred percent accurate and she used all the materials she said she used, the costs still don't equal the amount of money she had on hand. See, look at this."

Byleth blinked before running a hand over his face in an attempt to focus as Claude grabbed a page of notes he'd used to make his calculations.

"See, this is the amount she would have had if she never spent any of her allowance from the crown," Claude said, pointing with a stick of graphite. "Which is ridiculous, because she was already collecting summons and weird creatures even as a kid, and manticores have strict dietary needs that aren't cheap. And this amount here is the sum total of all the donations she received to assist in the building of the temple."

Claude gave Byleth an expectant look. Byleth only glared.

"Don't you see?" Claude was practically giddy. "This is the proof we need! Azida clearly used funds she didn't have in the construction of her temple! A lot of them! She only could have gotten that money by stealing from the treasury, or borrowing from unsavory sources, like pirates or raiders."

"Isn't that all your people do?" Byleth asked, voice clear even if he hadn't made a move to get up yet. "Lead raids against Fodlan?"

"Raids and war parties are different," Claude retorted. "War parties split their take with the crown. Raiders just loot and steal. Either way, this information damns Azida. Once this comes to light, she'll never be able to take the--"

Claude cut himself off as movement caught the corner of his eye. As if time slowed down to match the intensity of the moment, he watched a tiny brown spider crawl out from beneath the cuff of his shirt. With the sort of deliberation he was used to seeing in much higher life forms, the spider considered the skin between his thumb and forefinger, then crouched down and plunged its mandibles into his skin.

Claude reacted just late, smacking the spider with his opposite hand. It was crushed in an instant, but the damage was already done.

"So what next?" Byleth asked, clearly not having seen the spider. "Do you go to her with the information and blackmail her, or do you reveal it in front of a council of judgment, or do you go to a church?" Byleth paused, clearly waiting for an answer. "Claude?"

"Small, brown, banded legs, rounded body." Claude prodded the dead spider with his graphite, already feeling sweat bead along his brow. "This is a jump-start spider. It's most likely to bite when it senses its target has an elevated heart rate."

Byleth went still in a way that made him feel more alert than he’d been when Claude first awakened him. "Did you just get poisoned?"

"No. No, jump-starts aren't really venomous themselves." He thought back, trying to remember what he'd eaten back at Azida's dinner. They'd eaten all the same things, though that was the genius of her plan. "A jump-start spider's bite triggers any latent toxins in its victim's blood. She would have had to poison me over dinner, then plant this spider on me. It's so small and drab, I wouldn't have noticed it."

"Okay." Byleth pushed himself up and took Claude's shaking hand, examining the tiny red spot where the spider bit him. "You keep poisons here, you must keep cures here, too."

Claude nodded jerkily, trying to think past the cold panic that had seized him the moment he'd seen the spider. "I do, but unless I know the poison, I don't know the cure. Most anti-toxins are toxins themselves unless they can bind to their opposite in the blood."

"So how do you find out which poison she got you with?" Byleth asked, his voice rational, low, and, on a fundamental level, somewhat comforting.

"Tastes," Claude said, recalling his training. "Nothing like almonds, nothing sweet where it wasn't supposed to be sweet, nothing that burned my mouth when I ate it. I switched the teacups and we drank from the same pot, the same flask--"

Inspiration struck at the same moment that Claude's vision went red. The honey liquor Azida had added to the tea! He'd expected it to taste sweet and it had--but the burn of the liquor hadn't been alcoholic at all. It could only have been a distilled version of vintas poison, mostly harmless unless activated by a secondary chemical, which made it turn bitter and harsh. Once activated, it could kill within minutes, which meant by delaying the activation, Azida was effectively accusing Byleth of Claude’s murder. But vintas poison was rarely used, not just because it required a latent activation, but because it was so fragile: the tiniest sip of actual alcohol would break it down and render it useless.

Which was why Azida had been certain to drink all the wine at the dinner!

Claude gasped, his lungs feeling like nothing more than useless lead weights inside his chest. The room spun around him in a red haze. It took two attempts to grab Byleth's arm even though they sat so close on the bed.

"Tell me what you need." Byleth's voice was deep and steady, but despite its usual calming effect, Claude could feel the panic mounting within him. He couldn't breathe. Might never breathe again! "Tell me how to help."

It was too late for alcohol now--now that the poison had been activated. A healer might be able to help, but if they went to a palace healer, Claude would have to reveal that Azida poisoned him. And while that would almost certainly be enough to bump her out of the running as their father's heir, Azida would just as certainly reveal that Claude (or rather, Byleth) had stolen confidential treasury documents, which would be more than enough to remove Claude from consideration as well. It was a no-win scenario--and that was unacceptable.

But a city healer was too far away. Based on how quickly Claude had lost his sight and almost his entire ability to breathe, he had minutes at most. Even if a wyvern was already perched on his balcony, waiting to fly him away, he'd never get there in time.

And last he checked, the balcony was empty.

"Claude." Byleth shook him. For an instant Claude wondered when their positions had gotten reversed: when had he laid down and Byleth gotten above him? But then he realized his limbs were stiff and not responding to any command he gave them.

A purified blood-drip alcohol would save me, Claude realized. But that's a procedure for a trained medic; I have no idea whether Byleth is trained for that or not.

Either way, it was the only option that might work now.

It felt like he was drawing air in through an extremely narrow reed. Claude locked eyes with Byleth and tried to explain what he needed...

But he only got one word out before his vision went dark and he dropped off into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned, wonderful readers! If you're enjoying this work, you may enjoy a similar work featuring a young Dimitri and this same Byleth character, set five years prior to the events in this fic. More details coming soon...


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude lives! But it was a close call, and now he has revenge in mind. But it isn’t going as smoothly as planned…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to announce the first chapter of another Ashen Demon fic, similar to this one, but featuring Dimitri instead of Claude! It’s a little darker, based on the premise that Dimitri went dark-mode right after losing his parents, rather than post-Academy phase. The character of Byleth is the same, as the new fic takes place five years prior to this one. Link in the footnotes if you’re interested!

Claude woke up to so much pain packed into the blackness between his eyes and his brain that he almost didn't want to wake up. It would have been so much easier to simply sleep off this beast of a hangover. Or maybe calling a healer would be even better. But a few niggling thoughts kept him from doing either.

The first thought was that he wasn't sure where he was. He was pretty certain he'd been in the palace last, but something about the quality of the bed he was in combined with the acrid combination of odors seemed to suggest otherwise.

The second thought was of his sister and the looming threat she represented. If he were incapacitated, she might not waste any time on either killing him, or at least disgracing him again. He had a dim memory of his last meeting with her not going so well.

Then the final thought that wouldn't allow him to sleep: He was fairly certain he hadn't gone drinking. At least, not to the extent that would have caused this hellfire of a headache.

Claude tried lifting his head as he opened his eyes. The pain was intense enough to make him gasp, but as he did, he choked on acrid bile flooding the back of his mouth. There was a moment of fleeting fear, a desperate prayer sent to gods Claude didn't quite believe in along the lines of "Please don't let me die choking on my own vomit," and then strong hands were on his shoulders, pulling him upright so that when he coughed on his own sick, he coughed it out rather than strangling on it. Thank the gods for small favors.

By the time the retching finished, Claude's throat and mouth burned as if lacerated by a thousand tiny cuts. The room's light felt like spears through his eyes, and even though he couldn't see, it felt as if the bed beneath him were rocking, like a small boat caught in a squall. Something soft pressed against his mouth and Claude balked before he realized it was a cloth meant to help clean his face. He groped at it, tearing it from callused fingers in order to take care of the small task himself, if only to exert a modicum of independence against his own helplessness. He scraped tears of pain off his cheeks with the back of his hand before forcing his eyes to open and show him where he was.

That hellfire light bounced off so many surfaces around the room that it set his eyes to burning all over again, but at the very least they confirmed that Byleth was the person standing over him in the coffin-like bed he'd been set up in. He felt one knot of tension ease just by knowing Byleth was close by. Claude buried his face in his palms, forcing himself to breathe slowly and calmly, despite pain and fear. It couldn't be that bad if Byleth was still by his side.

"Whe--" Claude's breath gave out in a series of sharp, painful coughs. Something cool and smooth was pushed into his hand--a glass of water--and he drank gratefully. The water was a balm to his ragged throat, though the chill it carried with it went straight to his brain, making it feel strangled and tight. He gasped and had to stop drinking halfway through. Why of all things did he feel hungover? Hadn't he been poisoned? Surely he wasn't stupid enough to go drinking after that.

"We're in an alchemist's medical lab," Byleth said, in answer to the aborted question. "In the city, not the palace, so the accommodations may not be what you're used to."

"H-how--" How did Byleth know that was what Claude had needed?

"It's the only profession I know that uses a blood-drip." Byleth set a steadying hand on Claude's shoulder as the prince slowly looked around the room, taking in the thin, fine tubes of glass carrying blood and various other liquids, as well as one fine tube that terminated in a needle in the crook of his elbow. "You said something about a blood-drip when you were passing out."

Claude tried to say "Ah," but it turned into a cough. He hadn't been sure how much he'd said when the pain of the poison overtook his senses, but apparently every single payment to Byleth had been well-spent if such a vague death-gasp had been enough to resuscitate him. He glared at the tubes of clear liquid being fed into his veins.

"Am I being pumped full of alcohol?" Claude asked, his voice raspy, barely above a whisper.

"The alchemist said it would bind up most toxins to make them inert," Byleth replied with a shrug. "It has the side effect of making you feel extremely drunk."

"I think I'm past drunk and in the hangover phase." Claude eyed the needle in his arm, longing to rip it out, but knowing that if it was too premature, he could end up prolonging this treatment. "Wait a minute." He looked up at Byleth, a thought occurring to him. "You said we're in the city? How did you get me here? I should have been dead from the poison in mere minutes after blacking out."

"I told you that I have some training in magic." Byleth crossed the small chamber to refill Claude's water glass from an ewer. "Though I prefer black magic, I do know a few basic healing spells. Nothing that would cure you, but enough to keep you alive. I got us both to the eyrie and had Beyzha fly us here. She seemed concerned for you." Byleth handed over the glass of water. Claude pressed it to his forehead rather than drink it. "I did promise the alchemist a significant payment, for treatment and for silence. I hope you're good for that."

"Yes, yes, I can afford it. Now." Thank the palace treasury for small miracles. If this had happened during his banishment, no way would Claude have survived. And thus was the reason he had avoided his sister's temple like a plague ship. She could have eliminated him there without anyone in the royal family ever being aware of his death. "Thanks, Byleth. I'm sure I owe you a little something after all this, too."

Byleth chuckled. "A little? I had to carry you up that stone chimney over my shoulder while healing you constantly. Don't worry, though. I'll collect when you're feeling better."

Claude would have laughed, but his head hurt too much and the inside of his throat felt scraped by a blade, so instead he laid back in the narrow little bed. "Thanks, Byleth. I'll make up whatever you say I owe you. With interest, if that's something you take into account. Did the alchemist say when I'd be cured?"

"Tomorrow morning." Byleth took Claude's water glass and set it down next to some delicate-looking glassware. "She said it would be best if you slept through it. You'll still have a headache tomorrow."

"A headache is better than death," Claude said, though he didn't sound convincing even in his own ears. The headache he had now was enough to think fondly of laying his head on the executioner's block. He didn't want to think about what tomorrow's headache was going to feel like.

"Rest as much as you can," Byleth said, standing up from the stool set beside the bed. "Unless you've forgotten that you have an additional debt to repay."

"Azida," Claude groaned. "As long as we have that paperwork you found, I've got the proof to pull her down. But you didn't happen to bring that here with you, did you?"

"No. But I hid it in your rooms. It's not impossible to find, though, so the longer we remain away from the palace, the more time your sister has to search for it."

"Ah, that's good motivation to feel better." Claude could feel his pulse in the backs of his eyelids. All he wanted was to drift off into the sweet oblivion of sleep once more. But as Byleth moved to the door of the room, icy fear gripped Claude's heart. "Hey, um, Byleth?"

Byleth paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"Look, um..." Claude swallowed, trying to wet his dry and painful throat. He waved Byleth closer so he wouldn't have to strain his voice. But those cool blue eyes staring down at him didn't make what he wanted to say any easier. "Hey, uh... Look, I know what this is, okay? You're my bodyguard that I pay in services and that's all. Right?"

Byleth didn't respond, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

Cluade swallowed hard and continued. "What I'm saying is... I know we're not lovers. But...if you could just...stay close? For a little while?" Claude tried a weak smile. "I don't want to be alone right now."

Byleth was silent for so long, Claude suspected he was going to refuse. "You want me to hold you?"

"Yes," Claude confessed, his eyes falling shut against pain and against the room's piercing light. "Please? It won't...it won't change anything. I'll still owe you."

"You do owe me," Byleth replied, voice as distant as ever. So it came as a surprise when Claude felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, lifting him slightly from the bed. "This would have been easier back in your bed at the palace."

Claude chuckled weakly as Byleth squeezed into the bed beside him, maneuvering Claude so that the prince lay mostly on top of the mercenary, his head resting on Byleth's shoulder. "You want to share my bed, Byleth? I promise it's a lot more comfortable than sleeping against the wall of the balcony every night."

"That's where an attack is mostly likely to come from," Byleth debated, his voice a comforting rumble against Claude's back.

"Hm." Claude felt warmth and sleep creeping up on him in a dual assault he had no wish to resist. "Couldn't you protect me from any angle if you just slept with me?"

Only silence answered Claude's question. He didn't bother opening his eyes: even in his pain-addled state, Claude knew he was pushing it. Theirs had never been a romantic entanglement. It was strictly business between them. But still, Claude couldn't help but feel safe wrapped in those arms corded with steel-hard muscle. He drew in a single contented breath before dropping into sleep again.

~*~

The next time Claude awoke, he was no longer connected to the shiny glassware by a needle and a tube, but his room was empty. His head pounded like a blacksmith working a particularly stubborn piece of iron, but other than that, he felt mostly himself. In fact, he was _hungry_. He hoped he hadn't been out of commission for longer than a day, though the question had slipped his mind when talking to Byleth that night before.

The door to Claude's room creaked open and while his first thought was to find a weapon, Claude quickly relaxed. It was only Byleth carrying a steaming clay mug.

"For the headache," Byleth said abruptly, placing the mug on the stool next to Claude's bed. "Alchemist wants some assurance of payment, though I'm fairly certain you weren't wearing a purse when I carried you to the eyrie, so I'm not sure how you'll assure her of anything. She took your signet ring, the one you started wearing when you were allowed back into the palace."

Claude picked up the mug, inhaling the bitter aroma of healing herbs. He grimaced as he sipped from the rim. "She can hold that against a trip to the bank. I have treasury funds again, so whatever this cost, I'm good for it. I'll even leave a little extra if she's willing to lie about the reason I was here."

"I think she'll be amenable," Byleth agreed. "She seems to know the value of secrets, though, so don't think you'll get off cheap."

"I never do," Claude lamented with a sigh. He grimaced as he glanced down at his clothing: it had clearly been slept in for at least a full day, if not longer. "How long have we been here?"

"Just two days." Byleth kicked open a trunk on the floor and tossed Claude's vest and belt to him, the few articles that had been stripped away. "Your wyvern took off the first night we were here. I've seen her a few times, but always from a distance."

"She's hunting. That's fine." Claude's brain still felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice, even after draining the mug of medicinal tea, but he forced himself to go through the effort of dressing. He tugged at the wrinkles in his shirt and trousers, but there was really nothing to be done about those. Oh well. He wouldn't be the first prince or princess to drag themselves home hungover and disheveled. "Let's ah... Ow. Thinking hurts."

Byleth snorted on a genuine laugh. "The bank. The alchemist won't wait long."

"Right. Bank." Claude ran a hand back through his hair. "But I need a little time before I stride right back into the lion's den. How do you feel about a little sight-seeing? We are in the city, after all."

"I thought we saw all the sights in the city," Byleth pointed out. "We did live here not too long ago."

"Ah, yeah, but then I was broke." Claude smirked and lifted an eyebrow. "It's a different city when you have money. Besides, I need to check out Azida's temple here and compare it to the list of materials I was looking at yesterday." Claude frowned. "Two days ago? Wow, getting poisoned really messes with my internal rhythms."

"It messes with your internal everything." Byleth extended his hand, clasping Claude's wrist to help him up from the bed. "Let's try and avoid that from now on."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Claude laughed. "I doubt I'll be accepting any more of my sister's dinner or tea invitations. Not unless I can control the setting entirely and sprinkle in a few tricks and traps of my own."

"You should have had me there," Byleth grumbled, shoving the room's door open wide. "Though if she managed to sneak a poison into you, I'm not sure how helpful I would have been. Can you get yourself one of those poison-nullifying snakes, like Azida has?"

"Ha! I wish." Claude shook his head wistfully. "Azida is the only local breeder. And even if I did go out of my way to get one, it would only serve to make me look fearful. It works for Azida because she's a priestess, and doling out cures and healings is what's expected of her. The snake doesn't look like a defense mechanism so much as it looks like a tool to help people in need. It would send a totally different message if I started wearing one as a fashion accessory."

"I wish I had known that Almyrans put so much stock into appearances before I agreed to this assignment," Byleth commented, wending his way through a shop of boiling pots, glass vials and sinister-looking ingredients piled onto shelves. "It's not enough for you to just beat out your siblings, you have to do it in a way your people as well as your family approves of. That's so much more complicated that challenging a few people to trial by combat."

"Right? Oof!" Claude rounded a corner behind Byleth and bounced off a figure nearly half his size: a girlish-looking woman wearing a brown canvas apron and clothes flecked with small stains and burns. The woman leveled a hard look up at him, hands braced on her hips, uneven bangs framing her face oddly. "Ah, hello. I take it you're the alchemist who saved my life?"

"That depends." Her face held no trace of humor, though Claude had been told that his smile was often charming enough to light up any face. "I might be the alchemist who takes your life if you think you can skate on the bill for this."

"No need for threats," Claude assured her, keeping up his winning smile. "My retainer and I are just heading out to the bank. If we take longer than an hour to return, my signet ring--"

"--Should be enough to prove my story of one of the royal heirs getting poisoned by someone in the inner court?" she asked, a single eyebrow arched smugly. "I have a sixth sense for secrets. Skip out on my bill, and I'll make sure everyone knows what happened."

"Yeah, that's totally what I was going to say." Actually, he was going to say the signet ring was likely more than enough price-wise to cover his bill, though he'd hate to lose the symbol of the status he'd recently regained. "But I will be right back. You can count on that."

"Good." The woman crossed her arms over her chest. "That glassware is expensive and I'm still paying the artisan who designed it for me. I'd rather have the money than the story."

"You got it." Claude winked. "Back in a wink. Promise!"

Even with a hand held up to shield his eyes from the sunlight, Claude still flinched when he stepped outside the alchemist's shop. His headache slammed at the backs of his eyes with renewed force, enough to make him stagger. Byleth caught his arm and held him steady until he regained his balance and even then, Claude still felt slightly ill.

"Ugh." Claude groaned, placing a hand over his stomach. "I'm so unsettled I can't tell whether I'm hungry or nauseous. It's been a few days, so I guess I'll try eating. Hey!" He elbowed Byleth in the side, earning himself a glare. "Why'd you let that alchemist threaten me? You're supposed to be my protector, aren't you?"

"Against anyone trying to kill you. I'm not going to kill everyone you owe money to." Byleth arched a brow at him. "I believe in paying people who deserve it, and someone who saved your life with as little information as I had certainly earned their fee."

"Well, yeah, I wasn't saying that," Claude admitted, abashed.

"But if she did prove to be troublesome," Byleth continued, "I thought even you would be able to handle her."

"I don't know about that." Claude laughed nervously. "Alchemists are usually pretty tricky, especially on their home turf. She probably had about ten deadly potions within easy reach."

"Then perhaps you should hurry up and pay her."

Claude frowned and cast a side eye over at Byleth. The mercenary always spoke in a flat, low tone that could easily be mistaken for disinterest, so it was often hard to read. But after so much time together, Claude thought he heard a note of irritation in Byleth's otherwise benign statement. He kept his suspicions to himself as he led the way to the nearest treasury-authorized city bank. His signet ring was supposed to verify his identity when outside the palace, but he figured most everyone knew who he was, so he didn't expect any trouble withdrawing what he needed to pay the alchemist with a little left over for a good lunch. And maybe a treat for Beyzha, too. She'd earned at least that much.

As expected, withdrawing enough money to pay the alchemist was no trouble. Once he paid the bill and retrieved his ring from the alchemist, Claude asked directions to the tavern best known for soups and stews. His stomach was still uncertain as to whether it wanted food or not and soup sounded soothing to him, even if it was just going to make a repeat appearance later. He didn't bother trying to hide his rumpled appearance: no doubt the city folk assumed he'd spent the night in brothels and bars, starting fights and getting drunk. That was normal for most palace nobles as well as the royal brats, though most of them had outgrown such misadventures years ago.

"Ah, I think I really needed that!" Claude announced, rubbing his stomach contentedly after finishing his lunch. "Now the dangerous part: seeing if it stays put or not."

Byleth met his gaze evenly, which was a little disappointing: Claude loved making the stone-faced mercenary laugh. "Are we still going to the temple, or should we head back to the palace to let you sleep off your ailment?"

"You're irritated about something," Claude said, grinning widely. "You always get snippy when you're irritated."

"Snippy?" Byleth made the word sound more like a threat than a question.

"Yeah, snippy." Claude bought himself a fresh-baked roll of bread from a street vendor. It was so hot he had to toss it back and forth between his hands before he was able to eat it. "The real question is: what are you irritated about?" He took a bite of the bread and had to exhale sharply, the heat burning his tongue and throat, bringing his headache back in force. After steam quit issuing from his mouth, he chewed and swallowed the bite down, coughing slightly. "You can't be mad about having to save my life. That is your job, after all."

"I'm not irritated," Byleth said, his eyes roving the crowd yet never once landing on Claude.

Claude smirked. "You're not irritated that the alchemist threatened me; if anything, you were more on her side than mine."

Byleth's eyes hardened, but he said nothing.

Claude tore his bread and popped a fresh bite in his mouth. "I paid for your lunch, so you're not mad about money. You know I'll pay back what I owe, so that's not what you're upset about. Hmm..."

"I am not irritated."

"There's that snippy-ness again. Huh." Claude scrubbed at the overgrown scruff on his chin. "Could it be you're upset that I needed to be saved? Were you afraid I might die and you'd be out of a job? Or would you actually miss me if I died?"

"You do not want to die while you're in debt to me," Byleth returned ominously.

"Oooh, chills." Claude feigned a shiver. "You know, I'd think you were lying, but after seeing you at work, I don't really feel like that's an empty threat. Are you just mad that I let myself get poisoned? Believe me, I'm disappointed, too."

"It isn't that." Byleth stared straight ahead as they walked, but Claude sensed an air of tension around the mercenary. "I expect that sometimes, your adversaries are going to get the better of you. That's the whole reason you hired me. But I should have been there when it happened. Not sneaking around and stealing dusty old papers."

"Hey, we needed those dusty old papers," Claude insisted, giving Byleth a nudge with his elbow. "And in all fairness, I didn't get poisoned until I got all excited over those dusty old papers, and you were totally there for that."

Byleth cast a dark look over that made Claude shrink away from him. "All the more reason I should have been able to stop it from happening."

"Azida is sneaky and has weird resources," Claude said with a shrug. "It's sort of her whole thing. You're never going to kill every single spider that enters my rooms. We'll just have to figure out a system for checking each other whenever we've been in contact with Azida, just to make sure she hasn't planted anymore surprises on us."

"Strip searches, prince?" Byleth still didn't seem amused. "Does she actually have to plant the spider on a person, or can she just send them to your rooms with orders? The next one she sends might actually be venomous on its own, rather than an activator."

"Look, you're worrying way too much." Said the recently-recovered-poisoned-prince. "Tiny spiders like the one that bit me, or even the signet spiders she prefers, don't really act on orders, they react according to their natures. Azida just knows how each species will most likely react in any given circumstance; that's her forte. It gets a little more complicated when you include things like demon-spiders, which have actual intelligence, but the good news with those is that most of them are as big as horses."

"And that's good news how?" Byleth asked skeptically.

"Well, something as big as a horse isn't exactly sneaky, is it?" Claude asked, smirking. "I think you'd notice if she tried to have one of those sneak into my rooms at the palace. Even better, if she did try it, you'd have something you could kill."

"I do miss the simplicity of a straightforward fight," Byleth admitted. Something eased in the tension between the two of them. Claude finished eating his bread roll, his stomach finally seeming to settle on "satisfied" rather than "sick." His head still hurt, but only when he looked directly at something bright and shiny. For the most part, he kept to the shadows, ducking his head against the glare off the road stones.

"Wouldn't Azida's temple be in the gods' quarter?" Byleth asked, as if he had just noticed where they were heading.

"Nah, it's not that kind of temple," Claude replied. "I mean, she does offer tribute to her divine patrons, but this temple wasn't built to worship any particular deity. Azida built it so people could come and worship her."

"I thought she tended the city's poor and sick?" Byleth asked.

"And those critically injured in war," Claude confirmed. "I know it doesn't seem like it would amount to much, but the people helped by Azida's temple tend to become zealots of her service. They collect donations from the wealthier citizens, ostensibly in the name of providing more aid to those in need, but I'm pretty certain Azida uses a portion of the funds to care for her exotic summons collection, as well as supplement her allowance from the treasury. That would be difficult to prove, though, as the temple's records could always be altered to suit Azida's version of the story. The royal records--the ones you stole--are the only ones we can use to prove any misuse of funds."

"I thought you already found proof that her funds didn’t add up to the actual construction."

"I did, but it wasn't as much as I'd hoped to find," Claude admitted. "I'm hoping that a trip to the temple will prove that she skimped on building materials, too. Missing funds are one thing, but using cheap materials in a temple of worship and sanctuary? That isn't just greedy, it's careless. And it would destroy the image Azida has been carefully constructing all these years."

"Fine." Byleth squared his shoulders, as if preparing to do something unpleasant. Though Claude failed to see how a stroll through a temple should be anything but relaxing. "Where is this temple? Aren't we getting close to the cliffside?"

"Why, in fact, we are." Claude grinned. "See, there's this one big other reason why Azida didn't want her temple in the gods' quarter."

They rounded the final city block before the mountainside yielded to the broken cliffside, the great divide that separated the city from the palace, save for the single bridge that connected them. Claude had to shield his eyes against the sun: there were no shadows between the edge of the city and Azida's opulent cliffside temple. The white marble used in its construction twinkled like starlight, beneath both the sun and the moon. And its position on the edge of the cliff meant no shadow ever fell over it. Great stone pillars held aloft the soaring, vaulted roof. A white stone pavilion crowded with carved busts and statues welcomed visitors into the grand inner sanctum. From the distance at which they stood, the windows appeared to be black, but by the reports Claude had read, each window should actually be a stained-glass mosaic. It certainly looked opulent enough, but only a closer inspection would reveal any cut corners or cheap materials. Claude sighed before stepping farther away from the shadows; he wished his headache would have gone all the way away before now.

"This would be an easy flight on your wyvern from the palace," Byleth noted, drawing a line between the distant cliffside-palace and the city-side temple. "We could have made this trip in less time if we'd had Beyzha bring us here."

"But Beyzha stands out," Claude reminded him. "I'd rather check out the temple without my dear sister finding out that I was here. Though, she probably will anyway. And flying here from the palace is one of the reasons Azida wanted it on the cliffside. She says it's to make the travel time shorter, so she can be called upon to help at any time, day or night. But really, it's an excuse to show off her menagerie of flying animals."

"Oh? Does she have a wyvern, too?" Byleth asked, moderately interested.

"No, no wyvern. At least, not one that I'm aware of." The day wasn't that hot, but just the effort of walking beneath the sun with a monster headache was making Claude sweat. That was good, though. The less he looked like a prince, the better he'd blend in. "She prefers smaller mounts: those are easier to house and cheaper to feed. Also, generally nimbler than most wyverns, though Beyzha could give any pegasus a run for their wings. If she has anything larger, like a wyvern or a dragon, I doubt she keeps them this close to the palace."

The cobblestone path to the temple was well maintained, looking as if it had been swept that very morning. Claude wondered if Azida employed mages to blow dirt and leaves off her pretty stone path, or if her zealots actually came out and swept it clean every day, but either way, it was impressive. Up close, the marble pillars seemed to soar far overhead, high enough to get lost in a low-flying cloud. A few wide steps led up to the outdoor pavilion, also swept clean and polished to a bright shine. Attendants wearing simplistic veils over their faces used cloths to clean the statues, carvings, and rails surrounding the pavilion. Though Claude counted a good half-dozen attendants, he heard no chatter. There was an air of solemn piety enveloped within the crisp, cool pavilion, almost like the antechamber of a medical ward.

Claude tapped his boot against the wide, flat steps, frowning as he squinted at the whorls in the marble under his feet. "No good. This actually is ageha marble. See the veins of rose-gold?"

"No," Byleth said flatly. "But if she was going to use cheap marble, wouldn't it make more sense for her to hide it inside the sanctuary, where it would be harder to spot the difference?"

"I suppose," Claude replied, though he was beginning to get a sinking feeling about this entire excursion. The pillars were made from the exact same marble as the floor and made been carved and shaped in such a way that only a true artisan could have constructed them. He paused at the nearest statue, an image of the goddess of mercy, beseeching the heavens with open arms to help her tend her flock of the poor and destitute. A wide, flat bottomed bowl sat before the statue, a few coins marking other pilgrims' charity, but that wasn't what drew Claude's eye. He recognized the style in which this stone had been carved, knew at a glance that it had been commissioned from one of the royal family's sculptors. While art forgers did exist, it would be far too foolish for Azida to have hired one to make pieces so close to the palace, where their authenticity could be easily verified. Surely this bit of grandeur was authentic, especially as it was one of the first pieces one would see upon entering the temple.

"Hello, fellow citizens." Claude nearly jumped: he hadn't heard the attendant's approach, but when he looked up, a veiled person stood far closer than he expected to find anyone. Byleth, of course, didn't look remotely surprised. "Have you come for the aid of our saintly princess? Do you seek prayerful solitude? Or have you come, perhaps, to make a donation to help out those in need?"

"Ah, let's go with prayerful solitude." Claude held himself warily, knowing this attendant could well be an informant of Azida's. "I haven't visited the temple before, but I've heard an awful lot about its beauty."

"Its beauty is but the tawdry exterior to all the great and wonderful works within, good citizen." The attendant bowed shallowly. "Please, allow me to escort you to the inner sanctum. I would be happy to answer the questions of a first-time visitor."

Claude bristled at being called "citizen" now that he was a prince again, but didn't offer any correction to the attendant: it was better to go unrecognized, no matter how much it chafed not to be recognized as royalty. He nodded at Byleth and together they followed the veiled attendant through the relief-carved marble doors into the inner sanctuary.

The first thing Claude noticed upon entering was the scent of incense, but not the usual cheap pine scent most temples used in their entryways. No, this was something sharp, tangy and fresh, and judging by the clean walls around the incense burners, it had to be clean-burning, too, rather than leaving behind those unsightly soot stains. Whatever the scent was, it was incredibly soothing: Claude held conflicting feelings over his headache suddenly easing away just by breathing it in.

"If you came to marvel, fellow citizens, then you will note that all the metalwork you see is actually gold, not just gilded," the attendant said with a practiced air, as if tours were common occurrences. "And the marble is the finest in all of Almyra, of course. But the temple's true beauty comes from the vision of our saintly princess and patron, the healer of the great and small, the benefactress of all those in need, the wisest and most compassionate of all our great king's children."

Claude barely held back a scoff at that remark; he wondered how much of this tour was scripted and how much was due to sheer zealotry.

"Any who wish may come here to pray." The attendant held out an arm towards the wide sanctuary benches, set in organized rows and polished to a bright shine. "For those who come seeking aid, whether for health, wealth, or spirit, they may seek the counsel of the priests and priestesses hand-chosen to serve by our saintly princess."

While the benches were set in orderly rows leading to the main altar at the head of the temple, they framed a grand aisle directly down the middle of the sanctuary, and a short queue of people stood waiting, silent and penitent. Two sets of doors flanked the altar, and as Claude watched, one person exited a door and an attendant ushered in the next person waiting in the queue.

"How is distribution of wealth decided?" Byleth asked, surprising Claude in his willingness to speak up. "Can just anyone come in and request a modest sum? Who decides which beggar receives how much at one time?"

"There are no beggars here, only citizens petitioning for aid," the attendant replied, sounding slightly miffed. "Only those truly in need would come and prostrate themselves before our spiritual leaders; those who are able do all they can to earn what they must to survive. For those in greatest need, the temple does not distribute coin so much as it provides what the citizen actually needs. If a family goes hungry, the temple provides food. If a family falls to sickness, the temple provides healing. If the family cannot meet its rent, the temple makes a donation to the landlord on behalf of the tenants. Money is not so important as the services it is required to pay for."

That made sense: the temple didn't really just hand out money to the poor, it simply provided help and services. Perhaps some few would seek to take advantage of such generosity, but on the whole, it was a fairly ingenious system: most Almyrans were too proud to beg unless it was the absolute last resort. And many who did receive aid in a time of need would feel indebted to the temple, most likely volunteering time to help clean the statues and polish the marble. It was a remarkably brilliant scheme, really.

"I've heard it said that the windows are works of art," Claude commented, waving to the closest one. "Would it be possible to take a moment in silent appreciation for such a marvel?"

Though Claude couldn't see the face beneath the veil, he suspected the attendant frowned at the request.

"Perhaps if you fine citizens are more interested in the art than the service this temple provides, you might be inclined to leave a donation?" the attendant suggested, though their tone was harsh rather than cajoling.

"Oh, sure." Claude smiled as he dug around in a pocket for his spare change from lunch. "Here. A donation for your time and an opportunity to take in the, ah, majesty of this temple."

The attendant seemed to accept the donation with a small amount of grace. They dipped their head and carried Claude's coins up to the altar at the head of the temple, where they bowed deeply before setting the coins in a collection tray there.

"Huh," Claude commented, voice low. "It actually looks like all my coins made it into the tray. I half expected them to keep one or two back for themselves."

"Just because they didn't take it now doesn't mean all the donations made to the temple end up in the right hands," Byleth murmured. "Or that others aren't stealing. That one might just be particularly devout."

"Yeah, you could be right." Claude turned back to the stained-glass window, first admiring the fine arrangement of the richly colored glasses, then reading the engraved stone below it, declaring it the work of another famous artisan. Claude gave a low whistle, earning glares from a few of the citizens waiting in the center queue. "Another big name. This one's a traveling glass worker, so it's not impossible to forge their work and get away with it, but I doubt that's the case. I actually remember seeing this artist hanging around the court a few years back. The twins and I, uh, maybe broke a few of her works in progress. On accident, of course."

"Of course," Byleth echoed, though he sounded almost amused. "What does this mean for your funds?"

"Well, it means Azida definitely spent more than is currently on the record in the treasury," Claude said, tapping his finger on his chin, pretending to study the stained glass as he considered what they'd learned. "I'm not sure it's enough, though. She clearly used expensive resources and there's no doubt that now she collects donations from the wealthier citizens of the city, and possibly from other nobles around the realm. We just saw how pushy her followers can be. It's possible that she took out an illegal loan early on to help build this place, but if that were the case, she would have long since paid it back. Even if I could find the lender and have them tell the whole story to my parents and the high council, I doubt she'd get more than a scolding. We need something bigger. Proof that she either used bad money to fund this construction, or that she's embezzling funds away from the temple that's meant to help the people."

"How are you going to get that proof?" Byleth asked, looking around. "The collection plates are out in the open. It would be easy to falsify the earnings and pocket quite a bit, so long as the bigger donations from the noble families are used for their intended purposes."

"Yeah," Claude admitted with a heavy sigh. "I was really hoping to find something here that would prove Azida isn't the saint she pretends to be, but so far everything looks like it's on the level. The only thing I can think of is finding out where she got the extra funds in the beginning, but unless she got them from an incredibly shady source--like Fodlan, or another foreign kingdom--I can't see how I'm going to use it to unseat her as the secondary heir."

"Wait." Byleth turned slowly, scanning the far side of the temple from where they stood. "We're standing on the city side of the temple. That side looks out over the cliff, doesn't it?"

"I imagine so." Claude shrugged. "I doubt even Azida has enough magic to warp reality and put the city on both sides of the temple."

"Your palace is built into the side of the mountain in order to protect it from attack, but that's not all the mountain provides," Byleth explained. "You've built your eyries and rookeries right into the cliff face, and carved secret tunnels for escape, or alcoves to hide and protect treasure. The overall design of the palace is beautiful, but it's also functional. Could that be one of the reasons Azida chose to build her temple on the edge of the canyon?"

"Hm..." Claude stroked his chin. "You know, I think you might be on to something. There's clearly more to this temple than mere visitors are allowed to see. But how to get into those hidden areas? With all the attendants wearing veils, it's impossible to tell where any of them are looking, which makes sneaking around more difficult."

"You could join the queue of petitioners," Byleth suggested. "It would at least get you into one of the private rooms."

"Yeah, but they already know I'm not destitute, based on the donation I just made." It hadn't been a lot of money, but Claude had handed it over with no reservations and little regard for its worth: surely Azida's dedicated attendants had noticed that already. "And I'm not injured, so it would be difficult to convince them I need to be healed."

"And the longer we stay here, the more likely it is for you to be recognized," Byleth pointed out. "If you haven't been recognized already."

"That's true, too." Claude sighed. "Guess we'll have to go with the old tried and true tactic of creating a diversion in order to slip away. You go cause a ruckus over by the entryway, and I'll--"

"No," Byleth said severely. "You are no longer getting farther away from me than I can protect you. No more close calls, Claude. Not while you owe me as much as you do right now."

"Heh heh," Claude laughed nervously. "Guess you can't collect if I'm dead. That's actually oddly comforting. Alright, so what's your plan, then?"

Claude followed Byleth's gaze as it shifted around the temple, taking in everything from the shining marble floors to the vaulted ceiling, which gleamed with polished silver in order to reflect light down into the sanctuary below. His eyes swept from the head altar, along the stained-glass windows to the open-doored entrance of the temple. Claude dared to hope that Byleth might come up with something, but his hopes dwindled as Byleth set a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I can grievously injure someone enough to draw one of the priests out of their chambers, then take the priest hostage."

"That's...a little larger of a scene than I hoped to make," Claude said, setting a hand over top of Byleth's to keep him from drawing his sword. "And that would most certainly attract Azida's attention. Maybe if we wander around a little more, we'll find a way to the hidden rooms."

Byleth shrugged. "My way was more direct."

"Yes, it was a good thought." Claude patted Byleth's shoulder as he stepped past him, glancing around for any obvious doors around the room. "Let's try the more subtle approach first, though."

"Hmph." Byleth turned on his heel, following close behind Claude. It was nice to know that Byleth took his job as Claude's bodyguard seriously, but it was also a bit of a pain. Claude felt certain he could slip away unseen, if only the attention of the attendants was focused somewhere else.

"Let's, ah...check out the wall reliefs over there," Claude said, leading the way. "Those are at least a little closer to the altar, maybe we can look for any hidden--"

"Have you finished admiring the windows?" Claude jumped at the sudden question. One hand over his heart, he turned, finding Byleth already between him and the veiled attendant, one hand on his hilt as he glowered.

"Wow, is sneaking up on people something Azi--your priestess requires of you?" Claude asked, his heart still racing. The sudden rush of adrenaline set his head to aching and he couldn't quite determine whether this was the same attendant from earlier, or a different one entirely. He drew a long breath to settle himself. "Yeah, actually, this window is just great, very, um, orange. My friend and I were hoping to look at the reliefs over on the far side of the temple, unless that's a problem?"

"Oh, of course not. Our pious princess went out of her way to hire the greatest artisans of our age in order to make this temple beautiful enough that those with the means to donate to her works might come and admire it," the attendant explained. "The reliefs over here depict the story of our Mother of Mercy gathering the war widows and orphaned children at the end of a great war and nurturing them to become the warriors of the next generation."

So they can begin the cycle all over again, Claude thought, but knew better than to say out loud. He'd never been overly religious, but he declined to believe that the gods were really as bloodthirsty as Almyran theology made them out to be. How terrible would it really be if an army was only used as a kingdom's defense, rather than as raiders to pillage the nearest borderlands? It wasn't as if Almyra lacked for anything, and even if they did, what was so wrong with fair trade?

But that wasn't a popular opinion for an heir to the throne to have, so Claude kept his mouth shut on the subject.

"These reliefs were carved from ageha marble by Osarlo Linweiss while the temple was still being built," the attendant went on, clearly intent on giving a tour-like speech as they led Claude and Byleth across the sanctuary. "Each chip of stone was made with deliberation and purpose, then smoothed with the finest sand imported from the beaches of Brigid in order to show all the fine detail of the artistry. If you'll look here, you'll see the mythical figure of the battle-scarred orphan parable, in which--"

"Ah, thanks for that," Claude said, cutting off the attendant. "I know my mythology, I get the reference. I, ah, get art better when I can just kind of...breathe it in, you know? I'd rather form my own opinions than have someone tell me how I'm supposed to feel about a particular work."

"Ah, I see." The attendant folded their hands against their simple robes. "A true admirer of the arts. I, too, shall gaze upon these works as if seeing them for the first time."

Claude fought back against the urge to roll his eyes. Surely this attendant was angling for another donation to the temple in exchange for leaving them alone, but Claude had spent all of his cash on hand and he couldn't very well promise a donation from the royal treasury--that would surely give him away. He cast a glance over at Byleth, hoping the mercenary might deign to donate some of his coin, but either Byleth was broke, or he didn't want to trade the coin. Either way, they were stuck with the silent observer as they stared at the chiseled wall carving.

Claude pretended to study the reliefs for long moments, nodding to himself and stroking his chin. He walked back and forth along the wall a few times, noting that Byleth stood back, keeping close to the veiled figure, in case they should prove hostile. Claude could have laughed: nothing would be more absurd than getting attacked by one of Azida's zealots. There weren't any obvious doors or passageways near the reliefs, though as he glanced at the main altar at the head of the temple, he caught the slightest motion of a heavy velvet curtain. Perhaps that cloaked a door? It wouldn't be altogether uncommon for a door to be behind a temple's main altar, in order for the person leading worship to enter and exit. Or, it could be a door leading to the hidden wonders Claude needed to depose his sister.

On his final turn of inspecting the reliefs, Claude pretended that something about the altar caught his eye and turned away from the wall carving. "I notice the marble walls and support pillars are carved here, but the pillars throughout the rest of the temple are polished smooth. Why is that?"

While the attendant launched into an explanation (which Claude did not deign to listen to), Claude caught Byleth's eye and jerked his chin towards the curtain, trying to indicate the suspected door without giving himself away to the attendant. He wasn't sure if Byleth caught the message, though he did cast a glare over in the same direction, eyes narrowing slightly.

"...want to take a look?" the attendant finished, hands still folded demurely.

"Yeah, no, that's--Wait, what?" Not one of his more graceful moments. Claude coughed and pounded his chest as if he'd just been clearing his throat rather than sputtering uselessly. "Are we actually able to go up and look at the altar?"

"Our worship for the day has ended," the attendant explained. "And you seem to be in a position to donate well to our pious princess's cause. I would be honored to show you more of our humble temple."

Claude nearly laughed at the word "humble" when this temple clearly outshone any of the more functional gods' temples deeper in the city, but he managed to hold it in. "I'd love to see more of this temple that takes such good care of our more vulnerable citizens. Perhaps getting a glimpse behind the curtain would help me decide if this is the cause I truly wish to donate towards. You know, the war effort at Fodlan's Locket could always use more funds, too."

It was a lie, of course, as Claude had no intention of donating to either the temple nor the war effort, but if the attendant thought they could wrangle some money out of him by giving a more thorough tour, Claude wouldn't mind. And by bringing up the war effort, he'd given himself an out so that he wouldn't actually be on the hook for a donation.

Well played, he self-congratulated as he followed the attendant up the carved, shallow steps to the raised platform that held the altar. There was no statue here, unlike the gods' quarter temples, all of which honored a single god and so that god's image was usually mounted above the altar. But this temple wasn't just one to honor the Mother of Mercy, but also the patron god of wounded warriors, the goddess of charity and a few other minor deities. Oh, and of course Azida. Azida was truly the real deity of this temple.

"Each morning, a servant of one of the great temples comes and invokes blessings upon our humble temple," the attendant explained, gesturing to the ornate and perfectly polished altar, set like a lectern. "Those who are able make their donations at that time. You should try and visit one morning, honored citizen. The sunrise truly makes those windows you admired earlier shine."

"Ah, sure." Claude wanted to peel back the heavy velvet curtain so badly it felt like an itch in a place he couldn't scratch. "This is the only place in the entire temple where you have the floor covered by a rug. Is there a reason for that?"

"So observant." He couldn't tell, but he thought the person behind the veil might have smiled. "The rug here, woven by the illustrious Vekin Nikaron, is here to dampen the sounds of footsteps on the marble. You see, the rounded shape of this end of the temple was designed specifically to amplify sounds out towards the faithful, so that a speaker could be heard clearly, no matter where a petitioner might sit. But it also amplified the sound of footfalls and other noises, so the rug helps deaden those sounds."

"Ah." That was slightly impressive: most temples preferred form over function and at first glance, that very much seemed to be the case in Azida's temple. Claude had seen plays with a curved backdrop and understood how the shape helped amplify both music and speech. He hadn't thought of its uses outside of plays; it was almost ingenious on Azida's part. He wondered if she'd thought it up herself.

"The altar is soft marble inlaid with gold and silver, interlaced in the pattern for both hope and help." The attendant traced the pattern in the air over the altar rather than touching it directly. A memory stirred at the motion; why did it seem familiar? "This, of course, was the work of Iliah Trinkess, the blind metalworker known for her ability to work precious metals in a way that breathes life into them. Her hands are truly a marvel; if you ever get the chance, you should go and see her work."

"Ah, sure. Thanks for the tip." Claude had seen the celebrated artist at work: she had actually made all five circlet crowns Claude and his siblings had worn as children. It had been truly amazing to watch: the old woman liked to converse as she worked, as if her hands were divorced from her mind. While working on Claude's crown, she had asked him about his mother's heritage, what his favorite training exercises were and all about the baby wyvern he was raising to be his mount one day. By the end, the woven metal circlet held the whorls of wind pierced by an arrow, wyvern wings behind his ears, and an air of impetuous curiosity and mischief. Claude had long since outgrown the crown, but he was fairly certain his mother still had it somewhere as a keepsake.

"Aside from the petitioner rooms, does the temple have any other rooms inside it?" Claude asked, keeping his tone mildly curious. "I have heard this temple takes care of homeless citizens and I wondered if there was some sort of dormitory for such aid."

"This temple does all it can to aid those without homes, but it does not offer full housing," the attendant explained. "Any citizen who needs assistance through the night is welcome to sleep here in our sanctuary, and we provide blankets, warm food and prayer, as well as any other services those citizens require. Our pious princess feared that anything more comfortable might prove a disincentive to getting citizens back on their feet, but she does have contracts with many local inns, so if someone truly does need long term help, she uses donations to rent a room for a set amount of time. Something like that is approved on a case-by-case basis, of course."

"Of course." Damn, Claude had been hoping that question would get him through the door behind the curtain. Or at least, the door he suspected was behind the curtain.

"Shall I show you the deliberation room?" the attendant asked, taking a step back in order to sweep the curtain aside.

Claude hesitated, suddenly nervous about how easy this all was. "Ah, sure. If that's allowed."

"It certainly is." The attendant opened the unlocked door and gestured with an open palm. "It's not much, I fear. It is simply a bland chamber where a speaker might wait for the time of service, or where our priests might gather to discuss how to best distribute aid to those in need."

Byleth gave Claude a shove out of the way and entered the chamber first, standing in the doorway for a long minute, presumably searching for traps. Claude could have laughed; they had walked into this trap of their own free will already and he had a feeling they were already caught. He let Byleth do his search though; it probably made him feel better. When Byleth stepped all the way inside the chamber, Claude followed close behind. Just as described, it was a bland room. A single table surrounded by simple wooden chairs took up the central space, while a few storage boxes took up the back wall of the room, perhaps accounting slips, or maybe the blankets used for the homeless who stayed overnight. All in all, nothing suspicious, dangerous or damning.

Damn.

"And just in case you were wondering, the daily donations are collected by hired guards every day and added to the accounts at the royal gold changer's bank." The room darkened as the attendant pulled the door shut behind them. "There is absolutely nothing here for you to steal, Claude."

"Believe me, Azida, if I was going to steal from you, I would have done it when I was poor and starving," Claude returned, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced his sister. "Why act the part if you weren't going to follow all the way through? I liked seeing you act all subservient and demure."

Azida lifted her veil and folded it back over her head, smoothing it so that it lay flat. Her robes were as simple as any attendant and she wasn't wearing any rings on her fingers, making her seem plain and unassuming. Still, Claude blamed his headache more than anything for not recognizing his sister immediately, veil notwithstanding.

"I didn't put on the act for you, brother dear," Azida said, folding her hands once again. "It causes such a stir anytime my devoted attendants see me here and I wished to show you around without any...distractions."

"Keeping an eye on me, sis?" Claude smirked.

"I was just glad to see you looking so refreshed." Azida's smile was pure venom. "Who would have guessed you'd go kicking your heels up in the city when you only so recently returned to the palace?"

Claude forced his expression to remain smug, hiding the grimace at Azida's dig at the poison. She probably suspected he'd been ill, but he'd never give her the satisfaction of admitting it. "So why bring me back here? Just to have your little reveal in private?"

"Do I need a reason to check in on my temple? Or to catch up with my brother?" Azida might have been talking to Claude, but she was watching Byleth. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he paced the length of the room. "Why are you here, Claude? You would have been most welcome when you had nothing, but for now it seems you have everything you could possibly need. Of course, my temple would always welcome a second royal contribution now that you have the funds to do so."

"Somehow, I think this place gets along just fine without a donation from me," Claude shot back. He stopped and watched Byleth for a moment. "What is it?"

"Dimensions," Byleth said, pacing the wall again. He stopped abruptly and locked eyes with Azida. "This room is at the back of the temple, but the measurements in here don't equal what can be seen from the outside of the temple."

Claude's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. How could he not have noticed that?

Azida regarded him with a cool look. "My my, Claude. He isn't just a pretty face, is he? I suppose I should have expected that you would choose a lover as clever as you are."

"You should have," Claude said, covering for the fact that he'd missed checking the room's dimensions. "So what's it hiding? Another room? A treasury vault, perhaps?"

"No, as I said, the donations leave here daily, with former palace guards whom I trust." Azida moved her hand to her wrist, petting something beneath the sleeve of her robe. Her golden snake, perhaps? Or some other pet that she was keeping hidden? He couldn't see even a single animal on her person and that made him nervous. "I suppose it does no harm to show you. It's a secret you already know, anyway."

Azida went to the back wall of the room, stepping in between two storage boxes and pressed her hand against the smooth marble. Magic light blossomed at her fingertips, running through the jagged veins of the stone. A moment later, an entire block of marble simply vanished.

"Come quickly," Azida called, already stepping through the doorway. "I wish to be back at the palace in time for supper in order to decline a marriage proposal set up by Tahj's mother."

Byleth shot Claude a glare and Claude held his hands up acquiescently, allowing Byleth to precede him through the dark opening. The space was narrow: Claude's shoulders--never particularly broad--scraped both walls at each step. The doorway led only to a darkened stairway, one that folded back on itself over and over again so there was no way to see what lay beyond, even if there had been light--which there wasn't.

"Hey." Claude whispered in Byleth's ear, using the sound of footsteps on stone stairs to hide the conversation. "When did you realize it was Azida?"

Byleth turned his head just slightly, a frown visible on his face. "The moment she approached us. Didn't you know it was her?"

"Ah, yeah." Claude smirked. "'Course I did." Well, he'd figured it out eventually, anyway. Damn headache. Which, by the way, was also Azida's fault, so this whole debacle could be laid at her feet.

And at least Claude was learning one good secret from it!

By the time the stairs ended, Claude judged them to have descended a little further into the stone of the cliffside than the temple was tall. This was an entirely hidden basement, which seemed exciting at first, but then the smell hit Claude's nose.

This wasn't a basement.

This was a stable.

"Ugh, Azi." Claude covered his nose. "What are you keeping down here?"

"It's my summoner's stable, of course." Azida stood in a long corridor, a rare smile gracing her face as she held her palm out to a snuffling snout reaching out over a paddock gate. When that mouth opened to reveal fangs as long as daggers, Claude tucked himself in tight against Byleth's side. This was a whole new level of dangerous--even more than the dinner that Claude had barely survived. "I know other summoners prefer some distant, hidden place, but I like to keep my precious children close. You know I've raised many of them from babies."

"They did used to be a lot cuter," Claude admitted, not recognizing nearly as many of the beasts as he thought he should. Some of them he wasn't even clear on the species, never mind if it had been something Azida had nursed back in her youth. Rather than watch the animals with their many and varied teeth, Claude looked around the stone stable, trying to figure out how expensive it would have been to build. Anything built inside the bedrock required both magic and manpower to be possible, but it also had to have a way to circulate air and, preferably, a natural light source. Far along the corridor ahead of Azida, Claude saw a wealth of natural light, which likely meant a large cave opening, perhaps the "landing pad" Azida used whenever she flew in from the palace eyrie. Along the ceiling on the cliff side, Claude noted a series of cylindrical holes bored through the stone, none larger than his fist, though he suspected they helped draw in air from the outside. A few openings were a bit wider, with mirrors reflecting light into the stable. A quick count of paddocks turned up nearly two dozen different "stalls" but that didn't necessarily reflect an accurate critter count: some stalls might house more than one animal, while others might simply be empty. Claude didn't want to stick around long enough to inventory Azida's deadly horde.

Just with this discovery, he had enough to sink her.

The plans for this stable were nowhere on the temple's build-scale, and there were no estimates included for building this far beneath the cliff face. With no explanation of where the money for such a thing had come from, Claude had just enough rope with which to hang his sister.

Metaphorically, of course.

"Well, thanks for trusting me, sis, but this smell is really getting to me." Claude waved a hand in front of his nose. It actually didn't smell terrible, it was just a heavy musty odor, thicker than the scent in the wyvern eyrie, if only because some of these animals were furred. Claude just needed an excuse to leave so he could plot and scheme. "Do we need you to open the door at the top of the stairs, or--"

"Why show us this?" Byleth asked, speaking to Azida for the first time.

Azida crouched down in front of a paddock gate, an enormous, wide toothy snout pushing beneath the gate to brush against her fingers. "There, there, Roe-roe. Are you getting hungry? We'll go for a little trip to the river soon and you can eat your fill, okay?"

Claude shuddered. That couldn't be the same bitty lizard that used to fit in the palm of his hand, could it? He couldn't see all of the creature, but the nostril he could see was as big as his fist!

Azida went on petting her scaly monster as she responded to Byleth's question. "The fact that I'm a summoner is no secret, though the populace at large seems to be under the impression that I only contract animals with uses in healing, like phoenixes and unicorns. Claude already knows the truth of my abilities, so it wasn't worth hiding. I know my brother: once he believes there's a secret to be found, he just keeps digging and digging until he finds it." She brushed her hands on her plain robes as she stood up. "This is the secret, brother. My private menagerie of summons, constructed so close to home by the grace of my First Joyous Return."

Claude felt his mouth go dry as all the gears in his head slowly ground to a halt. His mouth opened, but he managed to keep from giving himself away and speaking out loud.

"First joyous return?" Byleth asked, glancing back at Claude before turning back to Azida.

"Oh, do you not have those in Fodlan?" Azida asked, tipping her head to the side. "Or have you simply never served your kingdom as a soldier?"

"I have been a soldier," Byleth returned evenly. "I am not familiar with the custom."

"It's a traditional family gift, usually given the first time a soldier returns home after serving in the army or the navy. It's an incentive, if you will."

"An incentive? To come home?" Byleth didn't sound puzzled, merely as if he were confirming his understanding.

"An incentive to live," Claude explained hollowly. "So many young soldiers never return after their first tour. Traditional families celebrate a warrior's first return home. Like a victory celebration."

"Indeed." Azida smiled, her eyes gleaming like black diamonds. "My mother’s family was quite generous. Ah, but your mother's family is from Fodlan. I suppose they would not have gifted you anything, given that you are so often sent to wage war against your mother's own homeland."

That wasn't what bothered Claude, but if he acted as if it bothered him, perhaps Azida would allow him to take his leave of the temple. He needed a strong tea and a safe place to sit and think. Just because one plan was scrapped didn't mean his scheme was over; he just needed some time to come up with a new angle.

"It was quite a while ago. Don't think I hold a grudge over something quite that petty," Claude said, trying to look both hurt and haughty. "I'm glad I finally got out to see your temple, Azi, but Byleth and I have quite the evening planned, so we should head out."

"Oh? More...carousing?" Azida's sly tone indicated she knew Claude hadn't just roused from a day-long bender, but she wouldn't say out loud that she knew Claude was recovering from his near-death poisoning. "I wish you boys all the excitement the city has to offer."

"We've already exhausted the city of its excitement," Claude said quickly. "We'll be having our fun at home tonight."

"As you will," Azida said coolly. "Allow me to show you out. I would return home with you, but, well, I don't like you that much."

Claude snorted. "The feeling is mutual, sis."

Azida led the way up the narrow staircase, using her magic to remove the marble that hid the entrance to the stable. Claude smoothed his clothes, hoping he didn't smell too badly of animal stink, but then again, Azida probably came through here often in disguise, so perhaps no one would notice. Azida affixed her veil over her face once more before opening the door to the temple's altar and pushing aside the curtain. Trying not to look too eager, Claude pushed past her, his only thought of calling Beyzha and heading home. He had just descended that final shallow step off the raised stage when he heard the clearing of a throat behind him. He turned, slowly, horrified to see that Azida, anonymous once again in her plain attendant garb, had just stepped up the altar, seemingly prepared to make a speech.

"It is my great honor to announce that Prince Claude, third heir to the throne of Almyra, has made the decision to gift a portion of his treasury to our humble mission." Her voice rolled out over the temple and though there were only a few people there, all heard and all looked to Claude with expectation and approval. Claude could very nearly see the grin on his sister's face despite her veil. "Please join me in thanking His Highness for the _monthly_ supports he has just pledged to the needful citizens of our realm."

Polite applause and scattered bows broke out across the room. Claude forced a jaunty smile on his face and waved cheerfully while he raged on the inside. Monthly payments? To Azida's temple? Like she even needed it! But it was a matter of public record now and to refuse would only serve to make Claude look bad in the public eye.

Well done, Azida, Claude congratulated her silently.

Worse, though, than Azida's announcement, was how all her pious followers seemed to want to thank Claude personally, which meant shaking his hand or clasping his shoulder. While normally he wouldn't mind such casual association, his skin creeped at the thought of someone planting another venomous spider on him under Azida's orders. And Byleth, staying as close to Claude as possible as they made their way out of the temple, didn't go unscathed, either. By the time they finally got out into the thin sunlight, Claude's skin itched all over and the only thing he wanted was a bath.

"Ugh, and I had hoped to pick up some fish for Beyzha, too," Claude groaned, resisting the urge to check himself for creepy crawlies. "Let's head straight home. If Azida has a betrothal to refuse, then we have a little time to come up with a new plan."

"A new plan?" Byleth asked. "Weren't you saying that--"

Claude hissed him to silence: they were far too close to Azida's temple with too many places for a human or animal spy could be lurking. Facing out over the steep canyon that separated the city from the palace, Claude put his fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply, the sound echoing against the canyon walls. A moment later, he heard the responding scream of a familiar wyvern.

"Good girl," Claude murmured, holding a hand over his eyes as he scanned the sky for Beyzha. "I'll explain it all later, okay? For now, I just need a long, hot bath."

Byleth seemed amenable to the notion. Actually, so far the baths seemed to be Byleth's favorite part of the palace. Not that Claude blamed him. After the eyrie and the kitchens, the baths were his favorite, too.

Claude secured the riding saddle and harness on Beyzha before mounting up and offering a hand down to Byleth. He really didn't want to think about how difficult it would have been for Byleth to saddle up Beyzha, mount while carrying Claude's unconscious body, all while casting healing spells to keep him alive. He was grateful, of course, but he was also forced to recognize that if their positions had been reversed, Byleth would likely be dead by now. Unless he'd been fast enough to kill the jump-start spider before it bit him, which actually seemed like a real possibility.

Flying didn't feel like the joy it usually was, so Claude kept the journey short. He landed Beyzha just outside the outdoor bathing area, stroking her nose and telling her how good she was to let Byleth fly her to the city, then promising her treats next time. She crooned and chuffed at him before taking off to return to the eyrie, where the stable attendants would take care of her. Claude felt bad for not attending to her himself as he normally would, but he couldn't help but feel too run-down, both mentally and physically. His body was still recovering from the poison and the rough treatment that had just barely saved his life. And his hopes of revealing Azida's mistaken accounts had been crushed, so he needed to tax his already aching brain to come up with a new strategy. And ever since leaving Azida's temple, he'd been feeling itchy and unclean. He longed for the simplicity of a hot bath and long rest.

Byleth eyed him critically as Claude turned away from Beyzha's retreating silhouette against the colorful sunset. "Are you sure we shouldn't return to your rooms right away? You're looking a little pale."

"I'm feeling a little pale," Claude admitted with a weak chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "But I can't relax until I make sure Azida hasn't planted any little crawlers on either of us. I'll send for some food for the kitchens if you'll go secure one of the private indoor baths."

Byleth waited a beat, then nodded, stepping into the steamy interior of the palace baths. Claude knew Byleth preferred the outdoor baths, but right now he needed a controlled setting where he wouldn't be worried about spies or anyone else listening in on their conversation. Claude found a bathing attendant and requested a mild dinner, easy on spices or hard to digest foods: his body still felt delicate, despite the food he'd eaten earlier. With the dinner order placed, Claude retreated to the quiet, steam-filled halls of the private baths. Some were large enough to fit an entire harem inside, others were a tight fit for two. Some were rough-hewn, reeking of sulfur and wet stone, others were tiled, shaped and smoothed, carrying the scents of jasmine, mint or cedar. Byleth was already waiting outside one of the rooms, indicating he'd already checked it for any traps or spies.

"Dinner is on the way," Claude said, stripping the second he crossed the threshold of the bathing chamber. This was one of the more muted baths, Claude noted. A smaller pool ringed with blue and gray tiles, but the walls were stone, so the room smelled earthy and natural. "We should be safe to talk after it arrives. Most of Azida's informants can't stand up to the heat of the baths."

"Aren't you worried she's gone through your room and found the stolen accounts?" Byleth asked, crossing his arms as he remained stationed by the door. "Or planted more of her dangerous little bugs in your room?"

"She's probably already found the accounts," Claude admitted with a sigh. "Or else she suspected what I was up to. As for anything poisonous lurking in our rooms, well, spiders don't retain orders very well and if we smell different from how we usually do, that will put them off. I recommend using a strong soap to lather up." Claude searched the soap basket before choosing a heavy bar. "Snakes and lizards are a bit more cunning, but they're also easier to find on a search of the rooms."

Byleth nodded, but remained silent. Claude stepped over the pool and dropped into it, submerging himself suddenly and completely. The heat felt cleansing, scouring his skin to make it fresh and new once more. He scrubbed his hands through his hair once before kicking to the surface and groping along the edge of the pool for a seat. He leaned his back against the smooth tiles and let his eyes fall closed. It was lucky he had Byleth with him, really, for otherwise he might have simply fallen asleep and drowned.

A knock at the chamber door had Claude tensing and reaching for a weapon that didn't exist. Byleth answered the door, accepting a tray of food and drink before closing the door firmly and turning the lock. Claude's stomach actually growled as Byleth set the tray within reach of the edge of the pool. As Claude swam over to the tray, Byleth stripped down to join him in the pool. Just as Claude had requested, the food was all simple, wholesome fair: grapes, soft nuts, cold soup, yogurt and a pitcher of mild wine mixed with soothing tea, served cold. He dipped a branch of grapes in the bowl of yogurt, plucking the juicy fruit off the branch with his teeth. He actually jumped when he felt a hand on his back. How could he not have noticed Byleth joining him in the pool?

"Pardon." Claude slid over, making room at the poolside for Byleth to grab a bite. "This isn't going to be enough for you, is it?"

"I'll get by," Byleth replied, pouring himself a glass of wine-tea. He seemed surprised at the flavor, but not unpleasantly so. Setting his cup within easy reach, Byleth turned and settled on an underwater bench. "You said the plan was ruined. Why? That menagerie of hers must be expensive to keep up: I thought that was the kind of thing you were looking for at the temple."

"It was," Claude said, sighing heavily. "But then she dropped the bomb about her First Joyous Return gift." Claude chuckled weakly and shook his head. "Man, she must have known exactly what I was plotting to let that little gem slip. Guess I'm lucky she told me now, rather than embarrassing me at an official treasury hearing."

"I still don't understand," Byleth said patiently. "If this gift for returning from battle is such a tradition, then you must have received one, too."

"Yeah, but it's a little different. See, most families these days just treat the First Joyous Return like a party, with maybe a few small gifts. Only the really old, traditional families still give gold as a gift for returning from battle alive, and the amount of gold is usually based on how much wealth the family has, as well as how victorious that first battle actually was. So a border skirmish with few casualties and little loot doesn't warrant much of a gift, but conquering new territory and bringing back wagons full of riches, well, depending on your family, you might have just earned your entire inheritance." Claude folded his arms over the edge of the pool and rested his chin on them. "It's a little different for us royals, though, or really any of the nobility. We don't enter the military as foot soldiers, we're trained by generals to be leaders and enter the army as officers. Unless we really mess up, we're expected to return home victorious, so among most nobility the tradition switched from a large gift to more of a celebration and usually a masterfully forged weapon, or maybe some armor. That's actually when I earned my bow. Mom went all the way back to Fodlan to claim it for me."

Claude smiled at the memory. The crown had gifted each of the heirs with something stunning during a royal celebration to celebrate their victories, but the best moment in Claude's memory was being presented with that bow. Not only was it suited specifically to him as if custom made to fit his grip, height and draw preference, but it resonated with his Crest in a way that nothing else he'd ever owned had. Even better had been the looks of jealousy from his siblings when he was presented the bow. They had each been granted their own weapons, suited to their fighting styles and made by master craftsmen, but something about an ancient relic passed down the family line made it all the more impressive. Claude had never been disappointed by the fact that he hadn't been granted a reward in coin--honestly, he probably would have spent it if he had.

A gentle nudge against Claude's side made him realize that his eyes had fallen shut. He opened them to find Byleth sitting close by. Closer than Claude had thought he was. It wasn't intimidating, it just felt...intimate.

"What made Azida's gift different?" Byleth asked.

"Oh, she got a focusing wand, for her magic and her healing. From the crown, I mean. It was a brilliant piece of work. I don't know much about magic, but even I knew that wand was powerful. But that was just her gift from the crown." Claude sighed, reaching out to toy with the bowl of nuts on the food tray. Eating seemed like too much work at the moment. "You know Azida's the only one of us who comes from an Almyran family, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, her mother's house is one of the oldest and most traditional families in the realm. It's like a mark of pride for them to keep to the old ways, no matter how times change. To be honest, I have no idea how much gold they gave her, but I do know it was a lot. Gifts like that don't need to be recorded in any official registry. Azida could have added it to her treasury funds, or parceled it out among different banks around the kingdom, or she could have a literal dragon sitting on it in a great big pile somewhere. The fact is, if she claims she used that gift money to supplement funds for the creation of her temple, then no documents I turn up will ever be enough to prove that she used ill-gotten funds in the construction of her temple."

"So what does that mean for us?"

Claude blew out a frustrated breath. "It means the plan is sunk. I'm back to square one, trying to come up with a plan from scratch." Claude grabbed a mug of cold soup and downed it in one gulp, finding it both refreshing and comforting. He set the mug back down and sighed. "Guess I'll be keeping you on retainer for a while longer. Hope you didn't have any other plans for a while."

Claude heard the water lap the edges of the pool, but he didn't look back at Byleth. "I don't mind."

"Heh." Claude laid his head down on his folded arms. "Guess you wouldn't. Not as long as you're getting your payment."

Nothing but silence. Claude blinked, his eyes feeling heavy. He wished he could sleep, but knew he had to wash first. He just couldn't seem to summon the energy. The movement of the water made Claude feel listless and light. He felt splashes hit his upper arms and back, and assumed Byleth was washing himself. He should do the same...really, he should.

With more effort than it should have taken, Claude pushed away from the edge of the pool and turned around, slipping beneath the surface to wet his hair again before sitting on the carved bench against the wall. Byleth had moved a short distance away, scrubbing himself with the block of soap, just as Claude had surmised.

"What about that betrothal Azida was talking about?" Byleth asked. "Is that something you can use?"

"No." Claude grimaced. "That's a weird thing with Tahj's mother. She seems to think women have to give up their own inheritance and titles when they marry and she's been trying to marry Azida off for years. I'm sure she suspects Azida is a threat the Tahj's rule--which she is--and sees this as the easiest way to get rid of her, so she keeps trying to marry Azida off to foreign nobility. Usually Dagdan nobles, but sometimes Brigid, or once she even found a suitor from Morfis."

"And Azida's parents don't put a stop to it?" Byleth asked.

"No. Azida and the rest of us are all adults and blooded warriors now. That's Azida's battle to fight, no one else's. And Azida's more than up to the task, anyway. She's spent so much time building her reputation and power base here, she's not going to give that up to become a foreign noble. No, I need something Azida won't see coming. Something damning, something big." Claude trailed off as he realized he'd been staring at Byleth as he washed. He averted his gaze, hoping Byleth hadn't found it rude. "Damn it all, I really thought the temple was the way to get to her, too. Now I have to find something else entirely."

The water was murky with minerals as well as leaves and branches from sweet-smelling trees, making it difficult to see the bottom of the pool. Claude stared into the swirling depths, willing a plan to emerge fully formed and unthwartable. Something that would bring Azida low while at the same time lifting Claude high...

The water churned, low rocking waves pushing Claude back against the wall with a soft thump. He looked up and found Byleth standing before him, holding out the brick of soap. "You don't need to come up with a whole new scheme tonight. You've just suffered an ordeal. Take some time to heal."

"Yeah, yeah." Claude took the soap and started scrubbing at his skin. Tomorrow he would probably feel different about the whole thing. He actually liked puzzles, liked problems, liked coming up with schemes and plots and plans. Perhaps he really wasn't truly recovered all the way yet, and that was why he felt so depressed about starting over from scratch. But there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind telling him that he hadn't just been off-base with his initial plan about the temple, he'd also been sloppy enough to allow Azida to poison him. It was like she'd beaten him twice in as many days, and handily, too. Did he even deserve to steal the title as heir from Tahj if he couldn't beat Azida? Normally he would say "yes" but right now...right now he just wasn't sure.

Byleth settled onto the bench next to Claude, taking another sip of his wine-tea. "It's just a setback. You're not feeling your best right now."

"I was when I came up with the plan to target Azida's spending on her temple," Claude grumbled, scrubbing himself beneath the waterline. "I was so sure her temple was hiding something!"

"It was," Byleth said, his tone almost consoling. "Just not the secret that you thought it was."

"And not a secret I can use," Claude said, staring blindly at the surface of the water as he scrubbed his foot. "Even if I revealed all the dangerous beasts she's keeping there, it would only add to her reputation for being generous, spirited and powerful. Damn it, I knew Azida was my intellectual rival, but I didn't expect her to be this difficult to crack."

"Does she have a plan to remove Tahj as the heir?" Byleth asked. "If you can reveal that, it might be enough to force her out of position."

"If she does, I don't know what it is," Claude admitted. "But even if I found out and unveiled it, it only puts me in a bad spot to unseat Tahj later. I'd rather keep this just between Azida and me, so we don't drag unnecessary attention onto our battle of wits."

Byleth hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the pool's edge. "What else besides misappropriation of funds looks bad enough that it could unseat her? She doesn't necessarily have to do anything wrong if we can frame her solidly enough with another crime."

Claude laughed hollowly. "There isn't much, honestly. In the long history of the Almyran monarchy, there have been heirs who literally murdered their parents and siblings and still been crowned king or queen of the realm."

"There must be something," Byleth insisted. "Monarchs have been deposed, too, haven't they?"

"Of cowardice, mostly." Claude rubbed the bar of soap between his hands, then set it on the edge of the pool before scrubbing his soapy hands through his hair and digging his nails into his scalp. "But Azida has proven herself in battle as both a mage and a healer, so everyone knows she's no coward. The number one reason for a reigning monarch to be forced to resign the throne is to cede rightfully won land back to its nation of origin, but there's no way to frame Azida for that." Claude dunked his head under the water, rinsing it of soap before sitting up and whipping his head up so his wet hair slapped the back of his neck, flinging water across the bathing chamber. "Madness has unseated more than one monarch. If she went crazy... But the only way to make that happen would be to poison her to madness, and that snake of hers keeps her protected from such things. I don't know. I'll have to think on it some more."

"We could try to kill the snake," Byleth suggested, his tone oddly soft. "Or kidnap her. Sell her off to another realm so they could ransom her back. That would make her appear weak, wouldn't it?"

Claude chuckled as he leaned his head back on the edge of the pool, staring up at the ceiling. "If she came back from something like that, she would absolutely kill me, even if I had taken the throne in the intervening time. And taking her alive would be no small feat. She's a fighter after all, and you saw her summoner's stable today. Maybe you could take her, but I..."

Claude happened to tip his head to the side, looking over at Byleth. He just barely caught the motion of Byleth toying with one of the longer locks of his hair floating on the water, gently winding it around the tip of his finger before releasing it. Byleth stopped when their eyes met, then resumed a moment later. All thoughts of Azida flew out of Claude's head as he took notice of Byleth in the bath for the first time since arriving here. The heat from the bath had brought a flush to the normally pale skin, droplets clinging to the curves of Byleth's chest and shoulder muscles. His hair looked almost midnight black where it was wet, though some of the ends were drying into ash-blue curls around his neck and ears. His eyes, usually sharp and cold, seemed somehow...different. A little softer. A little warmer.

That's probably just my headache, Claude rationalized. It's a sign that I really do need to rest. I'm seeing things that aren't there; that's why I can't come up with a good plan against Azida.

The water lapped against him as Byleth slid sideways along the bench, their shoulders almost brushing. "We should go. You're falling asleep as it is."

"Mm." But getting out of the water sounded cold and Claude was comfortable as well as sleepy. He wound his arm up behind Byleth's neck and tugged him a little closer. "Or, we could stay a little longer and you could keep me awake." He rolled his head back to give Byleth a rakish look. "I think I'm recovered enough for that."

Byleth moved his hand from Claude's hair to his chin, tipping it up slightly. Claude winked lazily, his eyelids heavy. He draped his arm over the edge of the pool to hold himself steady as Byleth closed the distance between them. His body felt warm and relaxed, a sharp contrast to how his mind felt: wound painfully tight and about to snap. Getting out of his head would be good for him. And Byleth was always a good distraction.

But then warm lips were on his and suddenly Claude felt as if he were being held under water without taking a breath first. His arm tensed around Byleth's shoulders, his body coiling as if preparing to run away. The touch against his lips grew steadily in pressure until he yielded, opening his mouth to Byleth's insistence. He felt the slide of Byleth's tongue against his lower lip before it slipped inside his mouth, lightly caressing his tongue before tickling the roof of his mouth. Claude shivered despite the warmth of the bath, completely frozen in place as Byleth deepened the kiss further. This was new. Not the kissing, Claude had kissed plenty of people before, but not Byleth. Even if he'd wanted to, he never would have dared try it. Byleth didn't seem the type to get lost in kissing, in gentle caresses, in foreplay that was romantic rather than dominating.

And yet... Byleth did seem lost in it. Claude was kept breathless for long minutes as the kiss went on, always gentle but for the tiny nip on his lower lip before Byleth broke away, blue eyes searching for something in Claude's own. Claude swallowed tightly, afraid to speak, afraid to ruin whatever this was.

"I don't think," Byleth said slowly, a thumb sliding along the scrub on Claude's jaw. "That you're quite recovered enough for that just yet."

"Okay," Claude agreed, a tiny tremble in his voice betraying him.

"We should go back to your rooms," Byleth said steadily.

"Okay," Claude repeated, for lack of anything else to say. He certainly wasn't going to argue against such logic.

"But I also think," Byleth said slowly, fingers trailing back through Claude's hair, "that I will take you up on your earlier suggestion."

"Ah?" Claude was finding it difficult to make words. "What suggestion was that?"

"That I can protect you better while sharing the same bed," Byleth said coolly. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

Claude shook his head, mind even more muddled than before. "Nope. No objections from me."

Byleth's smile was slow, but patient. Almost kind. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re enjoying Ashen Demon, Golden Tactician, please consider giving my new fic a try: [Ashen Demon, Azure Lion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696935/chapters/70354989).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and his sister’s sibling rivalry might be even more deadly than the twins…

Alright, so it sucked that Azida had gotten the better of Claude. Again. But Claude wasn't one to let that keep him down. He allowed himself exactly one evening of sulking, then jumped right back up onto that wyvern. There had to be a perfect plot or scheme that would put Azida out of the way of the throne, he just had to come up with it.

Which seemed to be precisely the problem. Claude was stumped, though he hated to admit it. His mind was stuck on the temple, even though he knew he needed to look for a new angle. He kept picking at the problem in quiet moments, though as he soon remembered, quiet moments were few and far between when living the life of palace royalty.

Shortly after returning to the palace, Claude had been given his own list of tasks and responsibilities, much like the twins had been in charge of city tax collection and Azida renewed magical wards as well as reviewed the royal treasury. Claude's tasks were well-suited to his strengths, which meant they were more mentally taxing than physically taxing, but that drew focus from what he'd rather be doing, such as plotting and scheming. Luckily, most of his tasks could be delegated to nobles and soldiers, so rather than managing wyvern feeding and upkeep himself, Claude reviewed reports from a subordinate in the eyrie. Likewise, a young up-and-coming noble warrior helped organize practice sessions for the archers and the ballista operators on the ramparts, sending Claude progress reports on how much time it took to break down, relocate, and set up the ballista. Claude's only real input came in the form of allocating treasury funds for new arrows, or more supplies to build new ballista, so most of what his actual work was paperwork, but it was still time consuming. Add to that the fact that now that he was sufficiently recovered from his starving wastrel days, Claude was once again expected to attend court functions and socialize with nobles of the realm as well as foreign royalty. While this was important to his future rule, Claude couldn't help but think most of these events were largely a waste of time.

Except for the food. The food was always exceptional.

And often the only time he could eat without triple-checking his food for poison, as Azida couldn't risk poisoning the entire court.

Claude popped another sugar-coated pastry into his mouth, not bothering to hide the bulge in his cheek as he continued nodding along to whatever the pompous noble in front of him was saying.

"...and do you know what _she_ said?" the woman continued, rolling her eyes at her own story. "She had the audacity to say that wyvern riders aren't nearly as brave as the soldiers who charge in on foot! Well, you know I just _had_ to correct her, so I said 'So you're calling our wondrous Prince Claude a coward, then?' Well! She had nothing to say to that, I assure you!"

"Mm." Claude took a sip of his wine to wash down the pastry. "I'd say it takes a different sort of bravery, for sure. I mean, some soldiers simply can't stand the height from wyvern-back, but I wouldn't call that a mark against their bravery, not when they're the ones charging head-on into a line of pikes. And I'd say even standing in a phalanx is braver than bad-mouthing another noble in a public forum, wouldn't you?"

Claude winked before the noble could stop nodding long enough to figure out what he'd said and quickly stepped away, Byleth an ever-present shadow at his side. They were technically at a ball, though few people were dancing. Balls were really just another excuse for nobles to politick informally, which made them incredibly boring. Claude had already stolen two long dances with Byleth in order to have a few quiet minutes to himself, but just when he felt on the verge of coming up with a plan to oust Azida as the secondary heir, someone would come along and demand a minute of his time--which usually turned into an hour of his time--and Claude would have to smile and nod his way through another meaningless conversation.

Honestly, how was he ever going to secure himself as his father's heir at this rate?

"Why not just pretend you're sick?" Byleth asked, keeping his voice low though he spoke directly into Claude's ear. "At least then you wouldn't be offending the people you plan on ruling."

"Believe me, I've considered it, but being sick is the same thing as being weak around here and I can't have that image hanging over my head any more than it already is," Claude replied, stopping at a banquet table to grab a few more pastries. "And she offended me first, so I'm justified. I bet you a brand-new set of boots that she sends me an apology tomorrow, probably along with some food, or a bottle of wine."

"No bet," Byleth returned. "And even if she does, you won't eat or drink any of it."

"Can't take the risk." Claude turned away from the food table, cautiously scanning the room for his sister. There she was, dressed all in cream-colored silks, her veil dotted with pearls, black hair coiled and braided artfully. "Azida's got too many loyal agents inside the palace and it's too late for me to play catch-up. My best bet is to unseat her and take over her network. Only then can I be relatively sure that she isn't slipping poison into anything sent up to my rooms."

That was a day Claude looked forward to with almost religious fervor. It was getting tiring flying into the city every other day for untainted food.

"I've never seen your brother at one of these affairs," Byleth noted, openly gazing about the crowded ballroom. "How does he manage to avoid such things?"

"Tahj is an acting battlefield general and is currently away on military business," Claude explained. "That is an option for me: I could always request a command and get away for a few weeks, but going off to war is just a different set of complications. And honestly, I've been away too long as it is. I need the palace nobles to remember who I am and why I'd make a better king than Azida or Tahj."

"And how is that plan coming along?"

Claude only glared darkly at him.

Byleth smirked without meeting his gaze. "I thought so."

"Why? Do you suddenly have a plan, oh wise and worldly--"

"Prince Claude." A noble tapped his shoulder and Claude turned, political smile replacing his scathing sarcasm. It was one of the more matronly women of the court, a widowed duchess who had long since passed her fortune and her title down to her children. She lived comfortably at court, no longer in a position to sway political favor, but she was kindly and enjoyed knowing all the royal gossip. All in all, that made her one of Claude's more favorite people to talk to during these events. "I saw Princess Azida accept a dance from that strapping young noble from Fodlan and I was wondering if you knew him by any chance?"

Claude followed her gaze to the small knot of well-dressed young people hanging around his sister. He'd heard there were foreigners in attendance tonight, but he hadn't known they were from Fodlan. Due to his mixed parentage, many members of the court expected him to know all about the foreign kingdom to the west, but in actuality, he knew very little. Outside of a few visits to his grandfather in Derdriu back when he was younger, as well as a few border skirmishes at the throat, Claude didn't really know the land and he knew even less about the people. Thanks to his mother, he did speak the language and he knew a few local customs, but that was it.

So it was something of a shock when he happened to recognize at least one of the young nobles in the group hanging around his sister.

"Ah, yes, Lorenz of house Gloucester." He'd recognize those calculating eyes and that pompous nature anywhere. "He's expected to be the next duke of the Alliance. Actually, he might be the duke by now, since my grandfather passed away some time ago. He must be here looking for a bride to bring home with him. He always was obsessed with bloodlines and nobility. An Almyran princess sure would be a feather in his cap."

Byleth snorted and chimed in uncharacteristically. "He'd have to look outside of Fodlan for a bride: no local noblewoman would have him."

Claude grinned: he bet there was a story later. He'd have to tease it out of Byleth later.

"The Alliance is the closest part of Fodlan, is it not?" the former duchess asked, brown eyes sharp with intelligence. "If our strong princess were to wed him, would an annex then be possible?"

"I doubt it," Claude replied. "If Lorenz is the same from when I met him years ago, he'll expect Azida to give up her title as princess and simply serve him as a wife. In any event, I don't think the leader of the Alliance would just cede their kingdom to Almyra because of a marriage contract. And I'm fairly certain Azida isn't interested in accepting any betrothals from him."

"Oh?" the woman asked, interested. "And why is that?"

Because Azida wanted nothing less than absolute rule of the Almyran throne. Anything less than that would be admitting defeat. But before Claude could find a diplomatic way to say that, he caught sight of another noble listening in on the edge of their conversation--a woman he recognized as one of Tahj's mother's loyalists. He hid a smile as he changed what he was about to say.

"Well, don't repeat this," Claude said, lowering his voice as if about to share a secret. He noted Shandahla's spy lean in surreptitiously as well. "But Azida has told me in confidence that she much prefers the company of women. If you keep an eye out, you can catch her making eyes at that visiting sorceress from Morfis. You know the one?"

"Oh, yes!" The old woman's eyes lit up with excitement. "What a gorgeous match they would make! Has our princess yet made her affections known?"

"Alas, my sister is quite shy," Claude said, lying through his teeth as he put on a show of sincerity. "I only hope she confesses her feelings before the sorceress returns to her home. Morfis is so far away, as you know."

"I hope so, too." The old woman patted Claude's arm affectionately before ambling back into the crowd, no doubt looking for someone to share her new gossip with. The woman who had so obviously been listening in broke away as well, making a very direct beeline for Queen Consort Shandahla. As a servant filled Claude's cup, he watched through his lashes as the woman whispered something into Shandahla's ear. A moment later, Shandahla's famed pale eyes searched the ballroom, lighting on the sorceress Claude had pointed out. A few words were exchanged and a different woman of Shandahla's entourage stepped away, making a roundabout circuit of the ballroom. Claude would bet his fortune on her approaching the sorceress, but he couldn't stay to watch the effects of his newest lie: Azida would know he was behind all of this in an instant if she caught sight of him when Shandahla's people "introduced" her to the sorceress.

"I think enough people have seen me to know that I was here," Claude said, tipping his head towards an exit. "Let's say I'm feeling amorous and took my leave early to spend a little time with my paramour."

"No complaints here," Byleth assured him, selling the act with a lecherous look. "You do realize that it won't take long for Azida to trace that rumor to its source, don't you?"

"Yes, but in the meantime, she'll have to play nice with both the sorceress and Auntie Shandahla. Which means she'll be at least as busy as I am, hopefully making it difficult for her to retaliate."

The corridors leading to and from the ballroom were crowded with nobles and servants alike, so it took a little while for Claude to make his getaway. He tucked Byleth's arm into the crook of his elbow and every time someone stopped him for a conversation, he made bedroom eyes at Byleth in order to end the conversation sooner. It wasn't all that rude: the Almyrans liked their royals a bit lusty. It helped sell the excuse as to why Claude was leaving the ball early, too.

"Is there any truth to it?" Byleth asked once they escaped to quieter corridors.

"Hm?" Claude had been caught up creating a scheme in his head. "Any truth to what?"

"Azida favoring women."

"Oh, I'm not sure, actually." Claude shrugged carelessly. "She's certainly slept with women, but as to a preference, I don't know it. Back when the twins and I started experimenting at brothels, Azida became a bit more secretive in her affairs. Why? Did you want a shot with her?" Claude grinned. "Sorry, but she probably won't trust you enough to let you in her bed due to your close association with me. She's cautious like that."

"No, I wasn't thinking that," Byleth replied. "It wouldn't work anyway, since that's how we played the twins. I just thought perhaps you could have used the sorceress in a scheme of your own if you could get her into Azida's bed."

"I doubt it," Claude replied. "As one of the top palace mages, Azida has already met with that sorceress, even toured her around. There's no way I could have gotten my foot in the door with her. You know what's interesting though..."

Claude trailed off as they approached the door to his room. He thanked and dismissed the guard for the night, resuming only after he and Byleth began their ritual search of the rooms for any venomous critters or poisonous objects Azida might have had planted in their absence.

"You know, Auntie Shandahla has never once selected a female suitor for Azida." Claude shook out the cushions he'd tossed off the lounge and began haphazardly throwing them back where they belonged. "I think that must be why she jumped so quickly at the opportunity. A slower play would have been the smarter move."

"Is she in any sort of a hurry?" Byleth asked, flipping a rug over and checking for spiders. "Is your father retiring sooner than expected?"

"No, I think it just never occurred to her to consider women as an option." Claude frowned thoughtfully. "There really aren't any sexual taboos here, so most of us experiment to figure out what we like. But I always thought it was strange that Tahj only ever slept with women. At least, I never even heard so much of a whisper of him taking a man to bed."

"Is that strange?" Byleth asked, stripping away the bedclothes and shaking them out vigorously. "There are people who only prefer one sort of partner."

"Yes, that's true." Claude scrubbed at the hair on his chin. "I suppose that's a fair argument. I guess I just find it odd. Like choosing to eat only fish when the banquet table has lamb and pork and beef and goat. It's nothing against fish, but why limit yourself?"

"I think it's a Dagdan custom," Byleth supplied, pulling the pillows from their cases and beating them.

"Oh?" Claude asked, reclining in a chair and kicking his feet up on an ottoman. "Do you know many Dagdans?"

"Not many." Byleth squinted at a spot on the wall. Claude watched as he walked over and crushed whatever insect it was with the hilt of his sword rather than touch it. "I only ever met a few in Fodlan. I remember them making vulgar jokes about two soldiers who started sharing each other's tents while on campaign. That is, until a few other soldiers exchanged words with them."

Claude heard the heavy implication that "words" might not have been all that was exchanged. He shook his head ruefully. "Those poor Dagdans don't know what they're missing out on. It's like saying you've lived without ever going flying."

"I'll send you flying if you don't get up and help me put the bed back in order," Byleth grumbled. Claude laughed and levered himself to his feet, grabbing a side of the sheets and pulling them taut to fix them to the mattress.

"It isn't just the Dagdans, though," Byleth continued as they fixed the bed. "The people of Fodlan treat sex like it's some kind of secret. Most marriages are between a man and a woman, regardless of personal preferences. There are exceptions, but they aren't common."

"See, that just makes me sad for the people of Fodlan," Claude replied. "I'll just have to make capturing Fodlan and bringing it under my rule a priority, so I can help enlighten them to all the pleasure they're missing out on. Aren't I such a nice guy?"

Byleth snorted. "So you wanting to be king is all about making others happy?"

"Of course!" Claude flopped down into the newly made bed, grinning crookedly up at Byleth. "Myself chief among them. Hey, if I conquered Fodlan, that would officially make you one of my subjects. You'd actually have to bow to me and everything."

Byleth's smirk looked both sexy and doubtful as he cast his shirt off and set his sword to the side. "Let's see if you can make me, little prince."

~*~

Claude expected Azida to retaliate, but he didn't expect it to come as swiftly as it did. At first, he hardly noticed anything was amiss--it was normal for people to stare whenever he entered or exited a room, after all. And there were always rumors, always whispers behind upraised hands, so what did it matter if he noticed it happening more often than usual lately? It was slightly concerning to see more people looking to Byleth rather than Claude himself, but Byleth was a mysterious, handsome foreigner, so it wasn't all that strange. It wasn't until a group of burly soldiers on leave all grinned at Byleth, some going as far to slap him on the back and wink obviously at him that Claude began to suspect something was up, but it wasn't until the bath attendant addressed Byleth before addressing Claude that he began harboring any real suspicions.

Those suspicions were finally confirmed one afternoon in the eyrie, when Claude was sharpening Beyzha's claws with a file. He'd asked Byleth to get them both some water as the afternoon was proving to be a warm one and when Byleth returned, he had the answer.

"A rider who says he served under you in the army asked me if it was true that I--" he broke off here to use his hands to quote the phrase, "--get a leg up on you. Apparently, he has money riding on the answer."

Claude groaned and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Wyvern nail filings were sharp, even when ground down nearly to dust. "Dammit. Azida."

"I figured as much." Byleth shrugged. "I don’t really understand, though. I thought our public story was that we're lovers."

"Yes, there's nothing wrong with that," Claude said, waving a hand. "But because I'm a war general and a prince, the expectation is that I'm the one holding the reins, if you'll forgive the crude metaphor. It's part of the whole warrior culture thing: it matters who's on top and who's on bottom."

"And you called the Dagdans strange."

"It's just a matter of perception, I didn't say it was right," Claude argued, annoyed at finally seeing Azida's plot. "I don't really care, I've always enjoyed switching it up anyway, but it does hurt my image, especially among warriors and veterans. It's only a rumor, though, it's not like there's any proof."

Byleth shifted his gaze off to the side, looking instantly suspicious. Claude narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I'm going to find out anyway. Just tell me, Byleth."

A muscle ticked over Byleth's jaw before he shifted his gaze back to meet Claude's eyes. "There may have been a mention of something we did in the bathhouse a few days ago."

"Like, something we actually did?" Claude asked, confirming.

Byleth nodded. "I recall it specifically."

Claude swore loud enough to startle Beyzha. He apologized and patted her neck soothingly while the bitter taste of defeat burned the back of his tongue. How had Azida... He groaned loudly as he figured it out. "Azida's damn birds. She must have set one on watching the outdoor baths. Dammit, I can't believe I missed that!"

Byleth crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the paddock door. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know, there's really nothing--" Claude paused in the middle of dusting off his hands. Both hands were covered in ground wyvern claw, usually an expensive alchemical ingredient, but one that was easy for wyvern-owners to get ahold of. He'd intended to collect it and sell it, possibly at a discount to the alchemist who'd saved his life as part of an ongoing relationship, just in case he needed to be saved again, but now it gave him an idea. "Azida makes her own poisons, just like I do." He grinned, looking up slowly at Byleth. "What say we pay her workshop a little visit?"

Claude hadn't kept a functioning alchemy workshop in the palace for years, mostly because he was terrified of the twins getting into it and switching the labels on things, leading to a potentially deadly experiment. Instead, he paid for time in a licensed alchemy lab in the city, handcrafting his own poisons and, more importantly, his antidotes. He kept the finished products in his room, always with careful notes that he kept on his person, just in case someone got into them. It had taken nearly a month to restock his on-hand supply and ever since his near-death experience, he'd started keeping more antidotes than poisons, just in case. But Azida only ever left the palace to visit her temple, and if her workshop wasn't there, then it had to be somewhere in the palace.

Claude stalwartly ignored the little barbs about "riders" versus "being ridden" from those who felt they could get away with it, and began searching the secret passages in the walls with even greater attention to detail than he had as a child. After each excursion, Byleth helped him search for spiders and other insects on his person, lest Azida find out what he was up to. On the third day of searching, Claude finally found it: a hidden backroom connected to one of the palace gardens Azida frequented. It wasn't undefended, though, and Claude had to beat a hasty retreat when a scorpion-tailed snake bared venomous fangs before lunging after him, but he brought Byleth back with him the next time and Byleth swiftly dispatched the unfortunate reptile.

"Keep your sword out," Claude directed, already picking through the vials on Azida's countertop. "There's no telling what other safeguards she might have in place here."

"Why wasn't this first up in your list of schemes?" Byleth asked, looking around. "There must be at least a dozen ways to make it look as if she killed herself by accident with a set up like this."

"Mostly because she's no good to me dead," Claude said, focused on the powders, liquids, shavings and dried leaves more than the conversation. "And also, there's the fact that I'm the only other person who really dabbles in alchemy aside from her, so if something did go terribly wrong, it would be easy to pin the blame on me."

"So what's different this time?" Byleth pressed.

"Oh, just the fact that I'm not using this to hurt her, I'm just using it to inconvenience her. Like a few certain rumors have been inconveniencing me lately." Claude had decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore the rumors. It wasn't as if he could cast off Byleth as a lover and as he truly didn't care about who was doing what to whom, he saw no reason to try and correct the rumors. Eventually something more interesting would come along and palace gossip would divert to whatever that was, Claude just had to ride it out until then.

But this...this would stick in Azida's craw for a while. Claude was sure of it.

"Ah, got it." Claude found the vial he was looking for, shaking it up and watching the colors swirl inside to verify that it actually was what the label said it was. "This one and...this one. Okay, then set all these out like this..."

Byleth was probably bored watching him tinker with alchemical ingredients, but Claude was delighted. No doubt Azida would know exactly whose work this was, but then that was really the point, wasn't it? Long minutes later, Claude had Byleth retreat into the secret passage they'd entered from, then set his trap on the floor in the doorway.

"See, she won't see it there, right?" Claude pointed out, almost gleeful with his work. "She'll step on the vial and it'll shatter. That's worm's wart, combined with a bottled wind spell. When the glass breaks, it'll create a miniature sand storm, which will get into all the vials I left open and render them all inert. Months, possibly years of work will be ruined!"

"I can see you're very proud of yourself," Byleth said drily. "Can we get the hell out of here? I don't want to meet another one of those snakes in these tight passageways."

"Oh, fine," Claude said, sliding the fake stone wall over the entryway. The worst part about setting traps was that you never got to be around when they snapped shut. He would have loved to see Azida's reaction when she realized all her hard-earned ingredients and mixed potions were useless. It probably wouldn't take her too long to replenish her stores--she did make medicines in the palace's more legitimate alchemy workshop, after all--but it was still beyond frustrating. That was part of the reason Claude preferred to rent space in the city: sure, it cost more, but there was less clean up and he didn't have to worry about supplying the ingredients himself.

Claude kept a careful eye on Azida after that, trying to figure out if she had discovered his trap just yet. It didn't take long before he heard through the palace gossip chain that Azida had snapped at one of the head accountants over a tiny error, her reaction completely disproportionate to what the poor accountant deserved. After that, she'd walked about the palace in a bit of a huff, collecting more plants from the gardens than she usually did. Claude celebrated privately.

It wasn't long before Azida took her revenge, though. Somehow, she had managed to talk Shandahla into agreeing that the Morfis sorceress was a much better match for Claude and he found himself in a dinner arrangement that he couldn't refuse. Byleth was even barred from attending, much to his vehement objections. But meetings concerning possible future inner-harem members were supposed to be made without the input of other lovers and even Claude couldn't defy that when his father made it clear he had to go through with the meeting. Through the course of the meal, he managed to skillfully turn the sorceress down without causing any insult, but about halfway through the meal, he began to feel a painful tickle deep in his chest, one that only grew stronger as more time passed. The obvious reason for that was that Azida had managed to poison the food, but Byleth, unsatisfied about being kept out of the room, had gone to supervise the food preparation, so it couldn't be that. It wasn't until much later that he realized it had to be the sticks of incense burning in the corners of the room, and that every breath was slowly killing him. As the sorceress appeared to be fine, he could only imagine that Azida had cooked up a preventative measure and surreptitiously given it to her beforehand. He made it through dinner, pretending everything was fine, then rushed back to his room afterwards for an antidote that matched his symptoms and the method of the poisoning. He stayed in bed for a full day afterwards, moaning in pain and keeping only liquid foods down. Byleth looked livid, but tending to Claude kept him from retaliating, which was good. Claude would never be able to pin the poisoned incense on her, anyway.

When his fever finally broke and the feeling of powdered glass in his lungs finally faded, Claude walked unsteadily to his small wash chamber and cleaned the dried sweat from his skin with scented water. It was late and his rooms were empty, but he wasn't worried: Byleth had taken to going into the city to buy untainted food for the both of them and he expected Byleth would be back any moment. He hoped he brought something bland back, like roast chicken: Claude was really looking forward to eating solid food again.

Feeling a bit worse for wear, Claude went back to his bedroom and finally stripped out of the fine dinner clothing he'd been too exhausted to take off before crashing into bed. Some of the silks might be ruined, but that was okay. He'd simply add that to Azida's bill. Which was coming due soon, if only he could figure out how to send it to her...

Movement on the balcony had Claude spinning around, snatching up his bow despite being only half-dressed. He already had an arrow to the string by the time he realized it wasn't an intruder--well, not one he had to be worried about at least.

Azida's nightwing owl, Edwin, was perched on the railing of the balcony, wide golden eyes piercing as they stared right at him. No doubt Edwin would be reporting the success of the poison incense to Azida, but the owl wasn't dangerous in its own right. Not without Azida close by to give it orders. Claude felt his heart beating a mile a minute thanks to the scare, his arm shaking from his recent fatigue until he relaxed his draw, lowering both bow and arrow. Edwin lifted a wing and preened himself for a moment before resuming his watchful silence.

"You know that's dangerous," Claude told the bird. "I'd love to feed you to my wyvern. But you'd probably make her sick."

Edwin fluffed the feathers of his chest. It was eerie how silent that bird was, even while moving.

"So your orders are to just sit there and stare?" Claude asked, as if the bird could answer. "Or is this Azida's form of gloating?"

Nothing from the bird.

"I think you've officially overstayed your welcome." Claude raised his bow again, sighting dead center on the owl's chest. "Or else I'll leave you somewhere for Azida to find."

As amusing as it was to picture leaving an arrow-shot owl on Azida's pillow, Claude knew he didn't have the heart for it. So when Edwin refused to take the hint, Claude fired, but missed a fatal shot. Instead, he took a few feathers off the inside of Edwin's wing, leaving them embedded in the marble railing as Edwin screamed and launched himself into the sky. His flight was ungainly due to the missing feathers, but Claude watched long enough to make sure he wasn't going to plummet into the ravine. The sound of the door to his rooms being opened drew his attention and he pivoted smoothly, snatching up a new arrow and sighting on the door of the bedroom.

Byleth gave him a skeptical look as he stepped inside. "Good to see you up and about. Keep pointing that thing at me and you won't be up for long."

"Ha." Claude relaxed the draw, his arms feeling weak as pudding anyway. "There's my fearless bodyguard. I just had to chase off an intruder on my own."

Byleth's eyes went icy all at once. "Where."

"He's gone, now." Claude waved to the balcony. "Sent a message with him. What's that I smell? Did you bring back dinner?"

"White fish meat in broth. To recover your strength." Byleth went out onto the balcony. He returned with three long black feathers as well as Claude's arrow. "One of Azida's pets?"

"Yeah, her owl named Edwin." Claude was digging through a basket of food, pulling out the sealed bowl of soup Byleth had picked up for him. He was ravenous, not even waiting to get fully dressed before digging into the soup. "She sent him to spy. Or gloat. Or both."

"It's not like you to miss," Byleth commented, twirling the arrow between his fingers.

Claude shrugged, keeping his mouth busy with food. He wasn't sure Byleth would understand a concept like mercy towards animals. There was a difference between hunting to eat, or killing an animal before it killed you and intentionally harming someone's pet. Killing Azida's guardian scorpion-snake was one thing, killing her well-trained companion animal was another. He and his sister might be at war with each other, but killing Edwin just seemed like a step too far. And Edwin was useful, just as Azida herself was useful.

Byleth sat down across from Claude, helping himself to some of the food brought back from the city. "So. What's our next move?"

Even with the warmth of the soup breathing new life into him, Claude still felt bone-weary. He'd only been mildly poisoned, but he'd only just fully recovered from the first poisoning, making his body susceptible to new paths of attack. The smart thing to do would be to retreat until he was fully healed and hale, but he didn't have the time to do that. He needed a different plan, one that would allow him to move on the same battlefield as Azida.

"First, I think a trip to the baths is in order." Claude grimaced. "An indoor bath. We'll bring our own soaps, just in case she's managed to buy off an attendant there to give us tainted soap."

Byleth nodded. "And then?"

"Then..." Claude grinned. "I think we need to see if we can't steal Azida's little golden guardian."

~*~

It took a few days to find any resources at all on golden xaqik snakes. Claude suspected that Azida had combed the palace libraries clean of any books that gave away her secrets. The only references Claude could find to these unusual snakes at all was only the most basic information available--essentially what he already knew. There had to be a way to separate the snake from its mistress--or better yet, convince the snake to protect Claude the same way it protected Azida.

His efforts finally paid off in finding one misfiled book about magical creatures, which he promptly stole. Back in his room, he lazed about with his legs hooked over the arm of a chair, eating grapes as he read all he could find on the mysterious golden xaqik.

"This is fascinating!" Claude exclaimed, ignoring Byleth's determined disinterest. "Did you know xaqik snakes are born silver instead of gold? The gold scales show up after their first few sheds."

Byleth hummed acknowledgment. He was quite intently polishing his sword, not paying attention in the least, but that didn't stop Claude's enthusiasm.

"Hey, listen to this!"

"I won't."

"The xaqik snakes are thought to have developed their anti-poison abilities because in their natural habitat, the most reliable food source was poison frogs! So they'd bite the frogs to render their poison inert before eating them. Isn't that interesting?"

"No."

"Most of those frogs are brightly colored," Claude mused. "I wonder if xaqiks are attracted to bright colors. Like if that might be a way to lure Azida's snake away from her... Hm..."

Claude and Byleth both jumped at a loud pounding at the door. Claude frowned as Byleth went to answer it, sword in hand. There weren't many good reasons to beat upon a prince's door like that. Were there assassins in the palace? An approaching army? What?

"Your Highness!" Claude recognized the person desperately trying to push past Byleth, who remained unmoved: it was a stable attendant from the eyrie. "It's Beyzha! She's sick!"

Claude was on his feet at once, book falling to the floor. He would have darted out into the hall, completely unprotected if not for Byleth turning to bar his path.

"It could be a trap," Byleth said, lowering his voice as he held Claude by his shoulders.

"I don't care if it is!" Claude shouted, pulling free. "I'm going to her!"

"I'm not stopping you," Byleth told him directly. "But I'm not letting you rush on ahead of me, either. Just stay on your guard."

"Fine," Claude snapped, nerves frayed. He walked briskly, taking the most direct path to the stables. To the attendant, he gestured sharply, indicating that they walk alongside him. "What's wrong with her?"

"She hasn't eaten all day, but she's nowhere close to her expected shed time," the attendant said breathlessly, rushing to keep up. "The head keeper thought she might just be tired from all your excursions to the city, but then she started making such odd noises. Her wings are limp and she keeps thrashing her head from side to side, sometimes hitting the--"

"Stop." Claude shook his head, the mental image hurting his heart too much. "I'll see it when I get there. What has the head keeper done so far?"

"She was just starting a hot water soak when I left," the attendant replied.

Claude felt his blood run cold. "No. No! They have to stop that immediately. Byleth!"

"I don't have the sort of magic that's going to get you there any faster," Byleth growled. "What's wrong with a soak? I thought that was standard for sick reptiles."

"Not if it's--" Claude cut himself off, darting a glance at the attendant. "If she's not sick--if it's something else--hot water will make it worse!"

Byleth swore under his breath. Claude couldn't get a read on his eyes, walking as fast as he was. He wanted to run, but had a feeling Byleth would stop him if he tried. The rational part of his brain told him running would only bring him into a trap faster, but the rest of his brain said that a trap would be a relief, as long as Beyzha was actually alright.

Byleth swore tightly. "I'll run ahead. You just keep up."

"Fine." When Byleth bolted, Claude stayed hot on his heels. He didn't take time to notice who cleared out of the way for them, or who Byleth unceremoniously plowed through in order to make it to the eyrie as quickly as they did. No one tried to stop them, though there were a few cries of surprise--usually when Byleth was physically tossing someone out of the way. Claude didn't let that slow him down: his father would understand the fear for a beloved war mount.

Nothing jumped out at them, no pit traps or trip wires were found along the way and when they finally burst into the eyrie, it was a mess of hurried activities, shouts and calls for medicines and water. Claude took the lead over Byleth then, joining the throng of rushing attendants and physically fighting his way through a barricade of onlookers standing just outside Beyzha's paddock.

He felt light-headed at the sight of his beloved white wyvern lying limp on the straw-covered floor as attendants patted her with cloths wet from barrels of steaming water. The head wyvern keeper and a few burly off-duty soldiers held her head down so she couldn't whip it around either in pain or in fury, harming herself as well as those trying to help her. The low, groaning sound through Beyzha's half-curled lips set something in Claude's chest on fire.

"Stop," Claude pleaded, his voice coming out too weak to be heard amongst the flurry of activity. "Stop, stop, please." If she was poisoned, as Claude expected she was, hot water would circulate the poison faster. But there was a lump in his throat, one he couldn't seem to speak past. He grabbed a fistful of Byleth's shirt, dragging him in close. "Make them stop. Please!"

Byleth barely seemed to take a full breath before his warning bellow halted all activity with a single command of " **Stop!** "

Attendants froze, seemingly confused. The head keeper looked up, scowling until she recognized Claude.

"Highness." She cast a glare at Byleth. "We are doing all we can, but--"

"Her droppings," Claude interrupted, still feeling weak. "Since you started the soak, has she made any droppings?"

A hot water soak was almost always guaranteed to make a reptile eliminate, but unless it had been cleaned up immediately, Claude could already tell there hadn't been any. His heart sank further as an attendant near Beyzha's tail shook their head.

"That's odd, but she hasn't eaten today," the head keeper pointed out. "Maybe she just--"

"What color are her gums?" He felt almost too weak to stand on his own. Azida wouldn't have...she wouldn't have gone this far...

Would she?

The head keeper reached for Azida's mouth, but she gave a low, warning growl that sounded more like a grumble. Claude pushed away from Byleth, taking only two steps before he sank to his knees, reaching in between Beyzha's impressive fangs to peel her lips apart. Her gums, normally a bright pink against her opalescent scales, were nearly black. He pressed his thumb into dark flesh, finding it drier than it should be. The pressure made the dark skin turn pale, but only when he really jammed his finger in deep, otherwise it remained the same ominous color as clotted blood.

The head keeper went pale. "Your Highness, we had no reason to suspect--"

"I need a cold saltwater rinse," Claude ordered, a chill settling over his mind, pushing out the panic in order to deal with the problem at hand. "And I need oil. High grade fish oil. Barrels of it. Until that arrives, get some wind mages here to chill the air. Right away."

"It shall be done, Highness." The keeper stood, bowed, then ordered her people out of the paddock. Only Byleth remained.

Claude let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to the middle of Beyzha's snout. "I can't believe she would do this."

"How can you be sure it's poison?" Byleth asked, voice low, almost soothing. Claude pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed some of the warm water off of Beyzha's face before answering.

"The symptoms. The timing. Because no other wyverns are sick." Claude lifted Beyzha's upper lip again, showing the darkened gums. "A natural disease will turn mucous membranes pale due to dehydration. They also tend to loosen the bowels and make tending a sick wyvern very messy. But this can only be the work of a binding compound. Something is preventing food from passing and making the blood sticky and slow. It's like colic in a horse. We have to make her pass whatever it was she swallowed."

Byleth crouched down beside him, one hand resting lightly on Claude's shoulder. "Can you save her?"

Claude forced himself to remain calm. Falling to pieces now wouldn't do Beyzha any good. "Beating poison is always a race against time." He turned and met Byleth's ice-pale eyes. "I'd say the odds are fifty-fifty."

The wind mages arrived first and after opening the mountainside paddock door, Claude ordered cold winds running nonstop over Beyzha's scales. But not too cold--too cold and it would stop her heart. A delicate balance was required to slow the spread of the poison while still keeping Beyzha's body functioning. The saltwater arrived next and Claude carelessly shoved up his sleeves, grabbed a cloth and began soaking Beyzha's skin between her scales. Each time he returned to the barrels of saltwater to wet his cloth, he noted Byleth keeping watch from a distance. Part of him wanted to snap at the mercenary, to tell him to help out, but he managed to hold his tongue. Byleth likely had little experience caring for animals, let alone war wyverns, and he wasn't wrong to keep a look out for sneak attacks. With Beyzha taking up one hundred and twenty percent of Claude's focus, it would be the perfect time to jab a dagger between his ribs. Not that he expected Azida would hire an actual assassin, but there was always the possibility of someone else wanting him dead. Royal heirs didn't always live long lives. He pushed thoughts of Byleth out of his head and instead focused on keeping Beyzha alive. He checked her temperature regularly, made attempts to get her up and moving, and when she wouldn't he worked her wings and legs for her, stimulating blood flow as much as possible while still keeping her cool. He was distantly aware of the fact that he'd soaked the front of his shirt and that he was shivering from the cold air, but he couldn't let any of that distract him: getting Beyzha through the night was all that mattered.

The oil arrived later than Claude would have liked, but then again, it couldn't be easy finding high quality fish oil this late in the evening. Even more difficult was the task of opening Beyzha's mouth and force-feeding the oil to her. Even weak and sickly, wyverns weren't easy to manhandle. Claude started by massaging her tongue and gums with oil, encouraging her to swallow. It worked at first, but then she started turning her head away, refusing to take more. At one point, when Claude was being particularly persistent, she whipped her head sideways and slammed him into the rock wall. The gathered attendants and mages gasped in shock, but Claude scraped himself back together and went right back to insisting she take more oil. In the end, he managed to work her mouth open enough to pour cupfuls of oil on the back of her tongue, tipping her head back until she swallowed. It was painstakingly slow, but Claude was the only person she tolerated reaching into her mouth. When a stable attendant tried, Beyzha bit down, nearly making the poor worker lose her hand. Luckily one of the mages had just enough healing magic to fix her until she could get to the hospital wing. After that, the head keeper told everyone else to keep their hands clear of Beyzha's teeth.

"Highness," the head keeper said, kneeling next to Claude as he poured another cup of oil down Beyzha's throat. "I know what this looks like, but you have to believe that there is no one on my staff who would intentionally allow your precious Beyzha to come to harm."

"I know that," Claude said hollowly. No one chose to work in the eyrie without a deep love for the mounts cared for there. "I don't suspect anyone on your staff. But I'll want a list of anyone else who was in the eyrie for the past two days. Visitors, vendors, nobles, everyone. You'll get me that list, won't you?"

"Of course, highness." In general, the keeper and her staff were on informal terms with Claude. He visited the eyrie enough that it would have been difficult for them to do their jobs if they were always bowing and scraping to him. Besides, he'd mucked out his share of paddocks, too, it wasn't as if he found their work at all beneath him. The sudden increase in formality was a defensive measure, a sort of subservience: in the old days, a poisoned war mount in the royal eyrie would have been grounds to have an entire staff executed. Those days were long gone, but the fear clearly wasn't. And it wasn't as if Claude was going to let this go completely unpunished. It wasn't like Azida walked the poison down here herself: she'd had an assistant. The only question was whether that assistant had been willing or coerced and either way, their fate depended on Beyzha's. If Beyzha didn't make it... Claude just didn't want to think about it.

In between cups of oil, Claude checked Beyzha's pulse continually by a vein beneath her tongue. When her heartrate began to slow too precipitously, he ordered the mages to stop their wind spells. The night had grown cool, anyway, and by now they had either stopped the spread of the poison or it was already too late. Attendants poured the remains of the saltwater into a single barrel and dragged the empties away. At some point, the head keeper was replaced by the night keeper, but with little left to do but wait, Claude told them to go about their business but to keep an ear out. The silence fell so gradually that it felt like falling asleep. Claude sat with his back to the stone wall, Beyzha's head cradled in his lap, hands slick with oil and saliva. Beyzha was breathing, but it was in huffs and wheezes. He couldn't hear any noises from her gut.

He startled sharply when a shadow fell over him, like the grim specter of death. If they were here for Beyzha, then they were in for a fight.

Of course it was only Byleth, keeping watch over him as always.

"Everyone else has left," Byleth said, dropping to a crouch. Cautiously, he sent a hand in the space between Beyzha's nostrils. "Is there anything you need? Or anything you need me to do?"

"There's really nothing," Claude admitted, stroking Beyzha's neck. "Either the oil forces her to pass everything that's in her gut, or the poison takes hold and...and she--"

"I understand," Byleth said, cutting off the words Claude was trying not to think, much less speak aloud. "Are you hungry? Or should I get you some dry clothes?"

Claude glanced down, noticing his shirt for the first time in hours. It was dry now, but the saltwater had soaked into the fabric, ruining the colors and crystallizing in wavy patterns. He'd probably dehydrated himself unintentionally, soaking his arms up to the elbows to wet his cloth over and over again. The wind probably hadn't helped matters, either.

"I'm fine," Claude said, shaking his head. "I'd just ruin another set of clothes at this rate."

Byleth's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. "If there's nothing more that can be done, should you sleep? It's past midnight."

Claude drew an unsteady breath. He normally didn't snap at people, but now his nerves felt frayed to the breaking point. It was a struggle to speak calmly. "I'm going to stay. You can leave if you want."

"That's not our agreement and you know it." Byleth moved, sitting beside Claude with his back to the wall. Claude caught the corner of a frown, then twitched as a hand was pressed against his cheek. "You're freezing."

"I'm not cold." He wasn't anything, really. He couldn't feel the stone against his back, nor the straw beneath his legs. He felt Beyzha's labored breathing against his skin and her cold, sharp scales beneath his palm. That was all.

Cloth rustled, then Byleth's black cloak settled over Claude's shoulders. Byleth's expression was impassive as he tucked the cloak in around Claude's chest and arms like a blanket. Only after it was adjusted to his satisfaction did he lean back against the wall, shoulder pressed tight against Claude's. For a while he just sat there, saying nothing, watching Beyzha as intently as Claude was.

"I'm not good in these situations," Byleth said finally. "My healing spells don't work on animals and even if they did, I can't cure poison. I'm no stranger to granting a deathstroke to soldiers and cavalry, but that doesn't apply here."

"I've had to put wyverns down," Claude said, feeling hollow. "There's always a few that take bad arrow wounds during an attack. Sometimes they fall from the sky, or sometimes their hearts give out. No one who rides an animal into battle isn't prepared for that eventuality. But...I don't think that makes it easier in the end."

"Your sister must be familiar with that feeling, as someone who uses animals and creatures in battle," Byleth concluded. "Are you certain that she's the one behind this?"

"I am." There wasn't a doubt in Claude's mind. "It's because I took a shot at her stupid bird. She knows I could have killed him. I didn't because I knew what it would do to her. She could have killed Beyzha with a poison outright, but she used a slower acting agent to give us time to save her. Out of _consideration_." Claude gave a raspy, humorless laugh. "All this for a few feathers. I even made sure he could fly afterwards. This is taking it too far."

"How are you going to respond?" Byleth asked.

Claude shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I doubt she left any loose ends that I can use to tie this back to her. She's probably already put whatever sorry soul she conned into doing this into deep hiding. It all depends, anyway. If Beyzha gets better, maybe we can laugh about it one day. If she doesn't, then..."

Claude stopped, feeling something warm on his cheek. He touched it with his fingertips, surprised to find them wet. When had he started crying? That wasn't very princely of him. He used Byleth's cloak to swipe his face clean.

"I don't know," he said again, watching Beyzha's eye move beneath the lid, hopefully in a dream of soaring. "Maybe if I burned down her temple, she’d understand what this feels like."

He'd grown up with Beyzha. They'd slept in the same bed as children, they'd learned to fight together, had been through war and back again together. He'd always known he'd outlive her, but he'd thought at the least he'd breed her before then. Raise himself a little brood of Beyzha's younglings, keeping her spirit alive that way. But he hadn't found a male wyvern he liked enough to attempt a breeding, and anyway, at any moment his father might order him off to war and he needed Beyzha to go with him. There hadn't been time...perhaps he'd make the time, now, though. See if Nader had any good bucks to recommend. Give Beyzha a little bit of a break. He'd been flying just a little too often, but it was mostly because he'd missed her so much during his exile. He honestly didn't know what he'd do if...if...

Movement beside him startled him. Claude had actually forgotten Byleth was there at all. Beyzha noticed too, slitting her eyes open to watch the mercenary as he stood to his full height. Claude patted her neck reassuringly.

"I'll get some food directly from the kitchen stores," Byleth offered. "Watch out for yourself while I'm gone."

"Okay. Though I doubt Azida's going to worry about poisoning me now. She's already made her point and she knows I probably wouldn't take the time to go and drink a cure, so I'd actually die." He grinned ruefully at himself. "That might just be enough to unseat her as the secondary heir."

"That doesn't help you if you're dead." A long, drawn-out silence, then something cool and hard pressed against the bottom of Claude's chin, tipping his face up: the end of Byleth's sheathed sword. "Watch out for yourself while I'm gone."

Claude smiled weakly as he brushed the sword away. "Don't worry. I'll still be around to make sure you get your payment."

He felt Byleth's icy glare without looking up again. Moments later, he heard Byleth's soft footfalls walking away.

"Oh, Byleth?"

"Hm?"

"Can you ask them to close the paddock gate?" Claude asked, looking outside for the first time in hours. He was mildly surprised to find dawn coloring the distant horizon. "We need to start warming Beyzha up slowly."

"Yes, my prince."

"Thanks."

Hours later, the head keeper arrived, looking haggard even after a full night's rest. Or maybe she didn't sleep at all, maybe she spent the night obsessing over Beyzha the same way Claude had. Barrels of tepid water were brought in and Claude and the stable attendants began soaking Beyzha's skin all over again, slowly heating the blood they'd cooled the day before. Claude worked her wings, her legs, her neck, her tail, all to get the blood flowing, but slowly. It did no good to shock her heart with too-hot blood. The stable attendant ordered the kitchen to send up its best banquet-quality fish and tried tempting Beyzha into taking a bite, but all she did was sniff it. Claude gutted the fish and at least got her to eat the innards, but that was all. Afterwards, he fed her a bit more oil then got back to soaking her.

Around noon, the water was upgraded to lukewarm, though it hardly felt different on Claude's skin. Beyzha was barely showing any change from all the treatment and his hopes were beginning to flag. He managed to roll her onto her side and pressed his ear against her stomach. He hoped to hear noises from her gut and intestines, but heard nothing. In desperation, he began massaging her stomach with two wet, warm cloths, encouraging the organs to begin working. If she didn't pass the poisoned obstruction soon, everything would have been for naught.

It was evening again when the head keeper finally drew Claude aside.

"I'm not giving up," he told her obstinately. "I don't care how long it takes, I'm not leaving her side until it's over."

"I won't argue with you on that, highness," the keeper replied, tone even. "But you should at least stop and eat. Perhaps rest for a moment. You're the only one who hasn't taken a break all day and I doubt you slept last night."

"I'll eat later," Claude said, turning away. "Beyzha is more important right now."

"My prince." The keeper's voice was stern. "My team will already come under investigation for what has happened here. Do you think it will be any better for us if we allow our prince to collapse from not eating?"

Claude turned back grudgingly. "Fine. I'll eat. But I'm still not leaving."

"That's fine," she assured him. She pointed to an upside-down water barrel lid, set with tea and fruit. "Sit there and eat. Don't get up until you've finished."

Claude rolled his eyes and did as he was told. He sat against the wall, eyes locked on Beyzha as he ate without tasting anything he put in his mouth. Grudgingly, he admitted later that he felt better for having eaten: his energy felt renewed, letting him get back to work more vigorously than before. Right around the time most of the staff started to leave for the day, he heard a soft rumble in Beyzha's gut. He called out excitedly for the head keeper to come listen, and afterwards she ordered hotter water and asked for the night staff to help.

It began slowly, first with Beyzha choosing to roll over onto her stomach again, kicking Claude with a powerful swipe of her hind foot to move him out of the way. Later, it was the voluntary wing stretch, where she arched both wings up high, so that their tips brushed the ceiling, then she tucked them in close against her back. Not too much later, she yawned and stretched her neck towards her trough. Claude gripped the keeper's hand hopefully as they watched her take several deep gulps of water, then settle back down. It wasn't until dawn that the sounds of churning gut noises filled the paddock, then finally, just as golden light peeked over the horizon, Beyzha finally had a loud, wet bowel movement.

Claude cheered as excitedly as everyone else, an immense weight finally shifting off his chest. He stroked Beyzha's muzzle, told her what a good girl she was, and fed her fish coated in layers of oil. One bowel movement wasn't quite enough, but it was a good start. Beyzha still seemed weary, but it looked as if the worst had passed.

The head keeper gave the staff who had stayed overnight the day off, but she stayed by Claude's side throughout the day, leaving only when the sun set again. Claude ordered a cot brought into the paddock and finally slept, though every little noise Beyzha made woke him up. When she defecated in the middle of the night, he cleaned it himself, calling for a cart and fresh hay before rinsing his hands in the water trough and falling dead asleep again. In the morning, he was woken up by Beyzha nuzzling his stomach with her nose, giving him an inquisitive look as if to ask "Why are you here?"

Claude laughed and hugged her snout. It was such a relief to see her standing on her own and sniffing around her paddock. Claude saw she'd made another mess and rolled out of bed. For the first time in days, he was actually hungry and offended himself at the reek of his own clothing. As he began cleaning up the mess, he thought about ordering breakfast in the palace baths, getting clean (and maybe dirty) with Byleth before coming back to check on Beyzha again. Now that she was looking bright-eyed and eager for breakfast, he wasn't nearly as concerned for her. He'd check in on her throughout the day, but at this point he trusted the keeper and her staff to see to Beyzha's needs.

Come to that, wasn't it a little past breakfast time for the wyverns? Claude stuck his head out of the paddock and was surprised to find it a-flurry with activity. People were shouting for barrels of water, attendants were carrying saddles and harnesses, soldiers ran past, not sparing their prince a second glance. Claude grabbed the arm of a passing attendant, the same one who had run to get him the day Beyzha had come down sick.

"What's happened?" he asked. "Is it a battle?"

"No, my highness. Your highness. Prince." She looked fearful, eyes huge in her face. "It's the temple."

"What temple?"

"Her Highness's temple. Your sister's." The girl covered her mouth as if it could hide her shock. "It's on fire. All of it, just up in flames. The king has ordered the wyvern contingent to help quell the flames."

Claude released her arm, staggering back into Beyzha's paddock and looking around frantically.

When was the last time he'd seen Byleth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh… Looks like we might be in for a battle next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic updates monthly! If you’d like to know when the next chapter is dropping, subscribe or follow me on Twitter.


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